


What do you call a cat that isn't?

by littlebyrde



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Cats, Father Figures, Found Family, Give Zuko a pet, Some Swearing, Spirit Shenanigans, Spirit-Blessed Zuko, Toph is tiny and awesome, Uncle Iroh is the the best Uncle ever, Yue lives, Zuko and Toph BROTP, Zuko has a cat, Zuko's Redemption Arc, zuko joins the gaang early
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:01:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25169629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebyrde/pseuds/littlebyrde
Summary: Zuko has a cat that isn’t a cat. This changes things.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Mai/Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Suki (Avatar), Sokka/Yue (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 43
Kudos: 515
Collections: A:tla





	1. Chapter 1

The cat was not in the room when Ursa went into labor. When Zuko is born, it was. The door was closed the whole time. No creature larger than a mouse-moth could have slipped through the window without being seen. Nevertheless, the cat sat in the shadows of the room and watched as the tiny prince entered the world, still and silent. She listened as the nurses fussed and Ursa wept and the little unnamed baby did not cry, huge golden eyes fixed on the moonless horizon. The midwinter sky was deep and velvet black, glittering with a fistful of flung stars. Tui did not show her face.

She was still watching the horizon when Agni's great eye peaked over the edge and the prince let out a ear-piercing scream. Unheard, she purred in satisfaction as the sky bled scarlet. She winked. The sun did not wink back, but a soft breeze stirred the heavy brocade curtain, carrying with it a quiet, breathless laugh. The sound was drowned out by the prince's deafening cries, but the cat knew it was there. It was why she had been sent, after all.

Ursa was the first to notice the cat. The nurses had, at long last, left the exhausted new mother to tend her child. All but one, who remained in the corner, just in case. The nurse did not specify what 'in case' meant, but Ursa knew. They were all shaken by the long night hours spent pleading for her boy to cry. They were all afraid that his burst of strength would not last, that he would flare and fade like a firework. She clutched the red-swaddled bundle closer and pressed her nose into the soft tuft of black hair on the boy's head. He still had no name. Ozai had not come to see him yet. He had thought the boy would not live to greet Agni. The omens were awful. A child born during the longest, coldest night of the year without even the moon to guide him had little chance. But her baby was alive. He was a fighter. She had known it the moment he opened his little pink mouth to scream and scream and scream, bellowing his defiance to the dawn.

Neither parent could know the true nature of that night's portents. They could not know that the night had to be dark, had to be cold, the sky without fire but full of a stinging winter wind. They could not know that every spare shred of warmth was being twisted and folded into a guardian to guide the child, who had a destiny far larger than anyone could predict. They could not know that the shadows, which would later be such loyal friends to the prince, needed to be thick and black so that a golden-eyed spirit could slip into the mortal world. How could they?

It was Ursa, holding the squalling bundle of red fabric tight to her chest, that spotted the glint in the corner of the room. For a moment, she froze. Her heart raced in terror. Her lungs seized, breath stuttering as she shielded her baby. She was certain, for a moment, that a spirit had come to steal him away from her.

A spirit had come, but not to take the child. She had come to keep him.

The glimmer resolved itself into a pair of large, slit-pupiled eyes. They blinked at Ursa, long and slow. Some of the tension released from her shoulders. She did not know how a cat had slipped into the room, into the palace at all, but something in its gaze was warm.

Her baby hiccuped and whined, squirming in her grip. She loosened her hold. The cat stood and slipped out of the shadow, into a square of pale light. Ursa's eyes widened. She had never seen such a creature in all her time.

Cat's were not rare in the Fire Nation. Cat's, adaptable, clever, useful creatures that they were, could be found almost everywhere. They worked on ships and in stables and kitchens, keeping mice away. They lurked in alleys and lounged in homes and made dens in the woods. But those were octocats, or catakeets, or pygmy pumas, or any number of other cat beast.

This cat was huge, nearly as tall as her knee, with short, glossy fur that gleamed like molten gold, striped with warmer honey swirls. Its fluffy tail flicked behind it, the base ornamented with a spray of ruddy feathers, and a pair of russet wings lay folded along its spine. Each of its paws were as wide as one of Ursa's palms, glinting with the tips of needle claws. When it yawned, as it did then, as if to show them off, it revealed a series of pearl teeth as long as her pinky. She swallowed hard.

The cat did not pay her discomfort any mind. It approached her bed and sniffed at the golden sheets, lifting on large paw and prodding at the mattress, as if to test it. The nurse did not seem to notice. Ursa held her breath.

The cat gathered its strength and leapt easily onto the bed, landing with a whumf and causing the mattress to sag. The baby fussed at the sudden movement. Ursa met the cat's eyes, amber and gold, and stared. The cat stared back. Cautiously, belly low to the blankets, the cat slunk along her side and up to the bundle in her arms.

Despite every motherly instinct in her screaming that she throw the creature away, or yank her baby up and run for the door, Ursa did not move. She could not, fixed under the lantern light of that glittering gaze.

The cat sniffed the baby twice, then started to purr. Ursa nearly dropped her child, she was so surprised. The purr was loud, uneven, and the most soothing sound Ursa had ever heard. It seeped from the cat's golden throat throughout the room, settling like honey and sunshine in the dark corners. The nurse looked up and frowned.

She dropped her needlepoint at the sight of the cat and sprang to her feet, mouth open to shout. Ursa flung out a hand.

"No!" She hissed. The nurse froze, stunned.

"My lady?"

"Wait."

The nurse bit her lip, twisting the front of her dress in her hands. The cat slowly, deliberately leaned forward, and licked the baby on its head. The baby giggled, pudgy hands reaching clumsily for the cat. The cat twitched its whiskers and butted one oversized ear into the baby's fist. The baby patted its head with stubby pink hands and squealed. Satisfied, the cat turned around thee times and flopped down between Ursa and the door. It placed its head on its front paws and closed its golden eyes.

Ursa's baby yawned and blinked sleepily up at his mother. His eyes were the exact same shade of burnished gold. Ursa clutched him tight and prayed.

Later, the baby was named Zuko. The cat was named Zaia.

Zaia did not like to be touched by anyone but Zuko, but she was never vicious to anyone except Ozai. Every time he entered the room, all of her fur and feathers stood on end and she snarled. She would not let him near the boy. The first time he tried to hold the child, she nearly removed a finger. Ozai attempted to light her on fire. She would not burn. Ozai attempted to send her away. She was always there at Agni's first light, curled up next to Zuko, soft breeze spilling through the open window. There was no creature or spirit on earth that Ozai hated more than Zaia. Zaia hated him right back.

Zaia was not present when Azula was born. She waited in Zuko's room, sprawled across his lap, letting stroke her soft belly fur. She accompanied Zuko to Ursa's side when she was finally permitted to receive visitors. She did not try and rip Ozai's hand to pieces when he picked up the little girl, but she did glare, eyes narrow, lips twitching, tail thrashing. Ozai would never admit it, but he had never handled anything so carefully as the first time he held his daughter. Azula was not Zaia's charge. She could not protect her the way she protected Zuko. That did not meant she liked it, and that did not mean that, if Ozai hurt the girl, all restrictions wouldn't shatter. If he hurt her, intentionally or not, she would be well within her rights to maul him within an inch of death.

Zaia was not permitted to take a human life. She was a protector, murder was not within her capacity. There were no rules about hurting, however, and she took great pleasure in making sure Ozai knew it.

Ozai sneered and passed the girl back to her mother. Ursa took her, giving Zaia a strange look. Very deliberately, while both parents and Zuko watched, the cat leaped onto Ursa's bed and, making direct eye contact with Ozia, rubbed the side of her cheek against Azula's head. Azula sniffled and yanked on her ear.

Zaia did not like Azula much, but a child was a child, and she permitted the baby to pat her soft fur and climb onto her back. She would not fly for Azula, only for Zuko, before he got too big and heavy to carry.

The first time Azula tried to set her on fire, she swatted the princess's hand with sheathed claws.

The second time, she swatted harder, and hissed.

The third time, she nipped Azula's fingers. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to hurt. Azula did not scream or cry. She met Zaia's gaze and narrowed her dark amber eyes. With that, Zaia knew that the girl was well and truly out of her grasp.

She did not give Azula the chance to set her on fire again.

The first Azula set Zuko on fire, Zaia snarled and pounced on her. The girl was still small enough that the cat could pin her to the ground. She growled in the girl's face and watched her eyes go wide and her face grow very pale. She did not hurt the child, but she made it clear that next time, she would not be so merciful.

Next time, she bit Azula's hand hard enough that tears of pain glistened in the girl's eyes.

The third time, Zaia was not there. She was perched atop a tree in the royal garden, listening to the wind lament her children. Zuko's burns took a week to heal. His father smiled. There will only ever be one other time Zaia is not by his side when he gets burned.

Before Lu Ten died, Zaia and Iroh had an uneasy peace. Zaia liked Lu Ten. He was kind to her boy. But Lu Ten did not need her, was not her charge, was not even vulnerable in the way Azula had been. She did not let him touch her.

Zaia… had mixed feelings about Iroh. He was an adult. More than that, he was a general in the war. But Zaia had a way of knowing the heart of a man, and Iroh's was kind. She did not let him touch her, either. She did let him touch Zuko. That said enough.

After Lu Ten died and Iroh returned from his spirit quest, Zaia took one look at his haggard face and promptly jumped into his lap.

Ursa was the only other adult Zaia let pet her. When she disappeared, Zaia crawled into Zuko's arms and did not move for hours. She would have wept, if cats could weep. It didn't matter that she couldn't; Zuko cried enough for the both of them.

Zaia was not allowed in the war room. Since she was not allowed in the war room, she made it very clear that Zuko was not allowed in the war room either. They were not to be separated.

For the first time in a long time, Zuko ignored her. He went into the war room.

Zaia lay curled up in a patch of sunshine by the turtle duck pond, who had learned that Zaia is not the predator they should be afraid of. The predator they feared walked on two legs and laughed without warmth.

Zuko sat beside her, shaking. Despite having a habit of speaking to the cat, who, by now, everyone knew could not possibly be a cat, because, though her boy was thirteen, she looked no older and no more singed than she did the day she appeared in Ursa's rooms, Zuko did not explain.

He did not tell her why he locked the door behind him when he left. Zaia knew something was wrong, but he locked the window, too. She did not understand why, and paced the bedroom, wailing. The wind wailed as well, grief ridden and sick of children suffering for the dragon throne.

It was Iroh who found her, face wet with tears, the next day. Zaia had clawed deep gouges in the door and walls, furious and afraid, desperate to return to her boy. She smelled blood and burning flesh on Iroh's robes and ran, faster than she had ever run before, the fur along her spine sticking straight out.

When she saw what Ozai did to her boy, she screamed. It was not a sound a cat or a hawk should have been able to make. It made the windows rattle, and sent a chill down the spine of every person who heard it.

Zaia wanted more than anything to curl up with her boy and never leave his side again.

She didn't. Instead, she slipped from the infirmary, across the palace, and into Ozai's study. The window as open. Ozai was not the one who opened it. Neither was Zaia

She made Ozai scream, too.

Zaia could not kill humans. She could hurt them, though.

An eye for an eye.

Iroh wasn't sure how Zaia made it onto the ship. By all rights, the animal should have been skinned for daring to harm the Fire Lord.

She was sitting on Zuko's bed, waiting, when they first set foot on the Wani.

Iroh met her eyes as he lay his unconscious nephew on the cot. He knew, as everyone knew and pretended they didn't, except perhaps his nephew, that Zaia was not a cat. He bowed low, lower than he would to anyone else save the Fire Lord himself.

She winked at him. No one told Zuko what she had done.

Life aboard the Wani was not easy for her boy. Zaia followed him around like a golden shadow. She watched as every day he left his soft heart behind, building a barrier of snarls and raised voices around him. She watched as he stared into the mirror, silent tears dripping down his chin. She watched as he flinched away from fire. She watched, and she mourned, and she raged. And every night, she curled up beside his head and licked his temple.

The crew of the Wani were not as disrespectful and mutinous as they could have been. At first, they'd held at least some pity for their boy-prince. Said boy-prince proved himself to be a walking, shouting nightmare, and the pity shriveled like grapes under summer sunshine. Still, one did not openly mutiny against a boy who had a spirit of vengeance following him around in the shape of a cat. After all, rumor had it that the damned beast had nearly blinded the Fire Lord.

It was the wind that drew Zaia's attention to the horizon that day. She was singing, laughing, overjoyed. My child is coming back! She cried.

Zaia watched the blue light jet into the sky and fluttered her wings. It would not be an easy journey for her boy, she reflected. Still. Zaia had a job to do, and Zuko had a destiny to fulfill. And a father to prove very, very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

Zuko considered plowing through the pathetic wall surrounding the village and marching right in- judging by the size of the outpost and the paltry barricade, it couldn’t have much in the way of defenses- but ultimately decided against it. Zaia was giving him a familiar, golden eyed stare from her place in Uncle’s lap, narrow eyes hovering just above the edge of his pai sho set, in a way that suggested he had better watch his step, if he knew what was good for him. Zaia could make herself aggressively unpleasant to live with.

  
If he upset her, she would take to riding around on his shoulders like a furry scarf and licking his phoenix tail until it stuck up at odd angles when he tried to give orders to the crew, or plopping herself pointedly on his knees when he sat with Uncle, until he was trapped into hours of tea and board games, or winding her way around his ankles every time he tried to practice his katas until he either had to give up or fall over. Once, when he had really, truly infuriated her, she’d caught a large silver fish and left it, still wet and wiggling, on his pillow. Uncle insisted it was a cat’s way of showing affection. Zuko had looked at Zaia’s smug expression as she washed her face and known better. In the end, it was better to keep her happy.

  
Uncle suggested a parley, so Zuko gave the order and the flag rose over the Wani. Uncle set out several servings of tea and sat down. He hummed quietly, stroking Zaia’s ears. The hawk cat hated the polar cold, and, as such, either attached herself to Zuko or Uncle and leeched off of their warmth. She had no problem with water or high altitudes, but she drew the line at snow.

  
They waited. Zuko paced the deck, taking long, slow breaths. With every second that passed the Avatar could be slipping further and further away. He longed to leap from the Wani and over the ice wall. He could. It would be an easy jump, at least for him. He glanced over his shoulder at Zaia and Uncle Iroh. Iroh would be upset if he entered enemy territory without backup. His chances of beating the Avatar one on one were slim to none.

  
Zaia cracked open a golden eye, as if she could hear his thoughts. Zuko sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at the flag, which rippled overhead.

  
“This is taking too long,” he snarled.

  
“Patience, prince Zuko.” Uncle sipped his tea. Zaia chirruped.

  
Zuko opened his mouth to shout back something caustic, referencing the three years he’d spent on the Wani being patient, when Zaia shot to her feet. Her fur and feathered ruffled, pupils narrowing to black slivers. A chilly wind swept across the deck, followed by a soft thump and a litany of curses. Zuko whirled around.

  
Standing on the deck of the Wani were three children. Zuko blinked, giving the world another chance to make sense. It didn’t. Zaia tilted her head to the side, staring.

  
In the center stood a young, bald boy with bright blue tattoos, brazenly wearing the colors of a people long since dead. Zuko felt mildly ill: the first thing he’d done when he was well enough to stand for more than a few moments at a time had been to visit the air nomad’s temples. There had been nothing left but ash and corpses. Zuko had tried desperately to pretend that it didn’t get to him, but when they’d found the children- He cut the thought off, the memory of Zaia’s keening wail echoing in his ears.

  
On the boy’s left was a girl, no more than fourteen. Azula’s age. But gender and age were where the resemblance stopped. The girl didn’t hold herself like a soldier, and her bright blue eyes swam with emotions that Azula would sooner die than display. She was clothed in thick, soft blue, long brown hair falling in a braid behind her back. She took in the ship with curiosity, anger, and a remarkable lack of guile.

  
The boy on the monk’s right was clearly her older brother. He looked Zuko’s age, but also younger, somehow. It might have been the lack of disfiguring scars. He was shorter, too. Most of his features were hard to make out under a layer of warpaint, but his eyes were steely grey, fixed on Zuko with a ferocity the other two lacked. He held a strange silver weapon in one hand, and, despite his shoddy stance, Zuko recognized a fellow fighter.

Zaia, meanwhile, was having a series of conflicting thoughts. The girl on the left: Waterbender, alone, a child. Enemy of my boy, potential threat. Tui and La’s last southern daughter. The boy on the right: Fighter, armed, potential threat. Lonely, scared, a child. A Water Tribe wolf. The boy in the middle: The last one. Pacifist. Young. Avatar. Spirit in flesh, child of the wind. Like me. She fluffed her wings and made a decision.

  
Zaia darted across the deck with a patter of paws and launched herself at the monk. The boy yelped and dropped his staff, catching her awkwardly. She was far too large for his small frame, hanging from his skinny arms. The warrior-boy let out an undignified cry, and the waterbender jerked like she wasn’t sure whether she should lunge forward or away. The Airbender laughed.

  
“I didn’t know you had cat hawks in the Fire Nation,” he said, grey eyes wide and delighted. Zaia, sprawled across his front, purred loudly. She licked his smooth head, right beside the blue arrow. He giggled. “That tickles.”

  
Around them, the wind sighed, pleased.

Zuko’s mouth fell open as Zaia fraternized with his enemy. Uncle made a strange sound behind him and stood.

  
“That is most unusual,” he said slowly. “Zaia is rarely so accepting of strangers.”

  
The monk beamed, huge grey eyes scrunching up. “I have a way with animals.”

  
Zaia let out a happy warble, more hawk than cat, and rubbed her cheek against his temple.

  
“My name’s Aang!” He said happily. “I’d bow, but…”

  
The water tribe boy flailed and hissed something sharp at Aang. Aang frowned at him, confused. Zaia chuffed in his arms.

  
Zuko couldn’t help but feel a bit betrayed. Zaia was one of the few things in life that was really, truly his. She picked him. She stayed with him. She cared for him without ever asking him for something he couldn’t do or give. She had been with him his whole life, ever since he’d been born. He swallowed down the hurt and straightened.

  
Zaia squirmed in Aang's grip and flipped out of his arms, landing on all fours back on the deck. She trotted to the water tribe girl first and sniffed the hem of her dress. The girl held very still, swallowing hard. Her eyes were fixed on Zaia’s massive paws.

  
After a moment of inspection, during which Zuko, Iroh, and several startled crew members watched in stunned silence, Zaia batted gently at the cloth and meowed. Then, sliding her flank along the two children’s shins, she approached the other boy.

  
The boy brandished his strange weapon at the cat, leaning away. Zaia sat and gave him an unimpressed stare.

  
“What is that thing?” He snapped. His hand shook around the weapon.

  
Zaia made a sound of deep offense, ears flattening against her skull.

  
“Sokka,” the girl reprimanded. “Don’t be rude.”

  
“It's an animal! And it’s Fire Nation!” ‘Sokka’ cried, waving his hands. Aang edged away from the sharp-edged metal in his grip.

  
“Actually,” Aang piped up, smiling. “Golden Cat Hawks are native to the mountains near the Western Air Temple. The monks didn’t usually keep them in the temple, because they’re carnivores,” Zaia yawned lazily, showing off her long, sharp teeth, “but they were always around. I’ve never seen one so big before, though. Or so friendly!”

  
Zuko snorted. “She’s lying to you,” he said. “Zaia’s not friendly.”

  
Zaia twisted around to glare at him. Pot, kettle. Uncle chuckled.

  
“Please, sit down, have some tea,” he said, gesturing to the places he’d set. They were one short, but Uncle was already pulling out a fifth cup and setting it down. He always seemed to have enough cups for whoever was willing to sit with him.

  
“Okay!” Aang chirped. He brushed some golden fur from his front, scooped up his staff, and bounced over to the place set beside Uncle Iroh. His feet skimmed against the metal, the lightest tread Zuko had ever seen.

  
“Are you crazy?” Sokka sputtered. “They’re Fire Nation! We can’t trust them! I bet they’ve poisoned it,” he accused.

  
It was Uncle’s turn to be offended. Zuko shifted his gaze from the monk, who had gone pale, to Sokka, very deliberately. He was well aware of the effect his glare could have these days, and Sokka wasn’t immune. He paled. A few crew members grumbled under their breath, shifting accompanied by the soft creak and clink of armor.

  
“Excuse me?” Zuko asked, banked fury bubbling under his tone.

  
The water tribe girl, whose name Zuko still didn’t know, edged back, bright eyes widening.

  
“No, no, no,” Aang said quickly, throwing up his hands and smiling at Uncle. “He didn’t mean it, he’s just not used to, uh… He’s very sorry!” Then he turned to Sokka and whispered, clearly audible to everyone around him. “Sokka. The Fire Nation takes honor very seriously. By flying the parley flag they promised a peaceful meeting. They won’t break their word.”

  
“Young Aang is quite correct,” Uncle said. “Besides, I would never desecrate tea in such a manner.” He chuckled and smiled at Sokka, that genial, disarming smile that made everyone forget that he was still a dragon. It seemed to work on the girl, who relaxed a tiny bit when she saw that her brother wasn’t going to be roasted where he stood. Sokka didn’t seem convinced.

  
Zaia reached out and swatted his hand. He startled so badly he dropped his weapon. Zuko hid a smirk. Zaia darted forward and batted the bent metal, sending it skipping across the deck. It landed somewhere behind Lieutenant Jee. Sokka let out an offended squawk. Uncle chuckled.

  
“It seems Zaia has taken it upon herself to enforce parley. Please, sit.” He took his own advice and settled back in his place.

  
Zuko stalked to his side and sat on his right. Aang skipped over and flopped down next to him, followed more cautiously by the girl. Sokka looked between Lieutenant Jee, in full armor, and Uncle, muttered something unflattering that Zuko couldn’t make out, and took the final spot. He glared at the tea as Uncle Iroh poured, frowning like it might leap out and bite him.

  
“I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name, my dear,” Uncle said, smiling kindly at the girl as he filled her cup.

  
“Oh. Um. Katara.” She tipped her head and stared at him hard, a strange, conflicted expression on her face. No, she was nothing like Azula. Azula wouldn’t give that much away.  
“A lovely name for a lovely young lady,” Uncle replied, and set down the teapot. Sokka made a gagging noise, and Katara flushed.

  
Aang took a sip of his tea and grinned.

  
“Hey, this is great!”

  
“Why thank you, young man.”

  
Sokka still did not drink. Zuko, looking him dead in the eye, did. He wasn’t partial to tea, especially the delicate, floral kind his uncle favored, but like hell he’d let the peasant see that.

  
Katara also sampled her tea, then blinked at it, surprised. “Wow.”

  
Uncle beamed at her. Zuko set his teacup down. Zaia wandered over, sniffed the tea set, and jumped into Zuko’s lap, where she proceeded to melt into a puddle of golden fur and a low, rumbling purr. Zuko scratched her ears absently.

  
Aang leaned forward. “How did you get a cat hawk?” He asked eagerly.

  
Zuko glared and didn’t answer, hands stilling in Zaia’s fur. She butted her head into his fingers and made a discontented mewling sound. Zuko sighed and resumed petting her.  
“She just showed up one day,” he admitted, and didn’t elaborate.

  
“Wow,” Aang said. “That’s so cool.”

  
Zuko stared at him, perplexed. People didn’t think Zaia was cool. His mother had been fond of her, but wary, too. Azula and his father despised her. He was lucky that Cat Hawks were fireproof, or Zaia would have been ash years ago. Mai maintained a frosty peace with her. Ty Lee was the only one who didn’t show a shred of caution or distaste around Zaia. She constantly tried to entice the cat into cuddles, until Azula put a stop to it. Zaia used to like the acrobat, though she never let her close enough to pet. Everyone else in the palace was scared of her.

  
Even Uncle was a bit strange about Zaia. Sometimes Zuko would catch him just looking at her, a strange, solemn expression, almost like he was assessing her. It was similar to the look he wore when playing a pai sho game, before making a risky move, except heavier. No one just… accepted Zaia.

  
“Don’t you think so, Katara?” Aang asked brightly, giving the girl nauseating doe eyes. She gave him a warm smile in return. Yeah, definitely nothing like Azula.  
“She’s very pretty.”

  
Zaia’s purr deepened, her eyes narrowing into smug, pleased slits. Zuko groaned.

  
“Now you’ve done it.”

  
Uncle chuckled. “Now, nephew, every lady deserves a well intentioned compliment.”

  
Zaia made a hiccuping chirrup, and Zuko swore she was laughing at him. He flicked one of her oversized ears gently and definitely didn’t smile. She flipped over and stretched, revealing her fluffy, speckled belly. Aang cooed.

  
Zuko exchanged a look with Uncle Iroh. Zaia wasn’t acting like herself. Overt friendliness was not something she displayed with anyone except Zuko. Showing her soft, vulnerable stomach like that, while napping on Zuko with strangers nearby was strange. Zaia didn’t go to sleep when there were strangers around Zuko. Actually, she didn’t go to sleep when there was anyone but Uncle (or Mother, before) within fifty feet of him, stranger or not.

  
“Why are you here?” Sokka snapped. He still hadn’t tried his tea.

  
Uncle cleared his throat and Zuko tensed. Zaia’s purr stuttered out.

  
“Ah. First, allow us to introduce ourselves.” Uncle gave them a shallow, formal bow. “My name is Iroh, and this is my nephew, prince Zuko.”

  
Zuko echoed his bow. Sokka and Katara went rigid. Aang’s eyes widened. He returned their shallow bows with one of his own. The form was unfamiliar to Zuko, his knuckles pressing into one another rather than shaping the traditional flame.

  
“It’s an honor to meet you,” Aang said, his tone somewhat subdued. Then that irrepressible smile spread out across his face.

  
Zuko felt himself twitch. It most certainly was not an honor for the monk to meet him. Zaia pressed one big, soft paw into his stomach, as she often did when he got maudlin. Uncle smiled indulgently.

  
“I’m looking for the Avatar,” Zuko said, voice flat. He was tired of playing nice.

  
Both water tribe siblings gave him strange looks, caught between questioning his sanity and his seriousness. It was a common response to his quest. Seeing that he meant what he said, the water tribe boy barked out a laugh.

  
“Ha! The Avatar.” He slapped his knee, chuckling. “That’s funny.”

  
Katara scowled at him. Zuko ground his teeth.

  
“Why would the Avatar be here, in the South Pole?” She asked, not quite as judgmental as her brother, but there was a hard look in her eye and an edge to her voice that hadn’t been there before.  
Beside her, Aang's face was doing something odd. Almost guilty. Zuko narrowed his eyes.

  
“We saw that light.”

  
Sokka looked vindicated. He pointed at his sister. “I told you, Katara! I told you!”

  
Katara smacked his hand out of her face. “He means the other light, not the flare.”

  
“Well, we saw that, too,” Zuko admitted. “But we were already coming this way when it went off.”

  
Katara gave Sokka a smug smile. Sokka scowled and crossed his arms. Aang remained quiet, looking between Zuko, Uncle, and the siblings with big, serious grey eyes. If Zuko had two eyebrows, he would have lifted one.

  
“Why are you looking for the Avatar?” Aang asked. He was fidgeting with a loose yellow thread.

  
Zuko lifted his chin. “I must capture the Avatar to regain my honor.”

  
Katara looked horrified. “But the Avatar is the world’s last hope!” She cried. Zuko frowned at her.

  
“The Avatar is an enemy of the Fire Nation. He is to be captured and returned to the Fire Lord.”

  
Katara’s expression contorted, rage and disgust flashing in her blue eyes. She seemed very young and very angry in that moment, soft in a way that Azula hadn’t been since she was two. Her naked fury was raw and vulnerable in a way that made Zuko uncomfortable.

  
“Well,” she snapped. “The Avatar isn’t here. He hasn’t been seen in a hundred years.”

  
Zuko snarled.

  
“I saw that light. I know he’s here.” His mind whirled. What would Azula do? Zuko forced his expression to go cold and menacing, treating Katara to the full force of his mismatched glare. “Anyone harboring or helping the Avatar is also an enemy of the crown. That includes you and your village. Give him up, and we will leave in peace. Don’t…” He lit a flame in his palm and trailed off, letting her mind do the rest.


	3. Chapter 3

Zaia swatted Zuko’s hand, claws sheathed. It didn’t hurt, but it wasn’t gentle, either. 

Zuko’s gaze flickered to her for a moment. In the corner of his good eye, he caught sight of a strange expression on his uncle's face. It was gone too quickly for him to identify, but it made something in his gut clench. 

Katara’s face twisted with rage. She sprang to her feet, seething. Tea swirled in the cups, making the delicate porcelain rock. Her mouth opened and closed, too overwhelmed with rage to articulate her point. 

Zuko sprang up across from her.

Aang paled and Sokka looked torn between vindication and hatred. 

“The Avatar isn’t here,” Sokka growled, standing. His hand inched for the club on his back.

The fear in the Water Tribe siblings’ expression made Zuko uncomfortable. He tried to ignore it. _At least,_ he reflected, _my Azula impression is convincing._

“Nephew-” Uncle Iroh began. 

Zuko ignored him. “You’re lying,” he accused. 

It took effort not to lash out, but they were still under the terms of parley. Zuko had already lost his honor. He wouldn’t invite more shame than he had to. 

Zaia meowed, disgruntled. If she were any other animal, she could have been annoyed that Zuko had interrupted her nap. He knew better. Her eyes were bright and intense, disapproving. 

“Will you really burn down the village?” Aang asked, voice small and scared. Zuko wondered how young he was.

Zuko kept his expression blank and didn’t answer. The truth was that he didn’t know. The village was full of civilians. Mothers. But Zuko was desperate. He wanted to go home. Longing crawled down his throat and gnawed on his heart. He knew, he _knew_ , that the tiny clump of snow stood between him and the Avatar. His way back. 

The frigid arctic air swirled and danced around the group. It ruffled Zaia’s feathers and Zuko’s ponytail, swaying Katara’s hair into her eyes. 

“You’re a monster,” she spat, lifting her hands. Her blue eyes were as cold as the arctic sea. 

Lieutenant Jee shifted. 

Zuko didn’t flinch in the face of Katara’s insults. Azula could do much worse at much younger. He set his face in a frown. 

“Just tell me where they are and you can go.” 

Katara laughed. It sounded as friendly as the gleaming white glaciers around them. 

“Why do you want him?” Aang asked. 

“Weren’t you listening?” Zuko snapped. A tendril of smoke curled from his nostrils as he tried to restrain his temper. It wasn’t working. “He’s an enemy of the Fire Nation!”

“Why?”

Silence. 

Zuko gaped at the monk. The flame in his hand flickered, then died. He spluttered and waved a hand. 

“Because- Because Avatar Roku betrayed Fire Lord Sozin! The Avatar has been our enemy ever since.” 

Aang’s eyebrows furrowed. He leaned on his staff, the gentle wind stirring his orange capelet. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

Zuko nodded once. 

“Why?” Aang repeated. 

Zuko snarled. Zaia chirped, standing and winding her way around Aang’s ankles. 

“It doesn’t matter. Tell me where he is, now.” The flame flickered back to life, brighter and hotter than before. It cast a warm orange glow along the side of Zuko’s face, highlighting the angry red of his scar, carving deep shadows into the puckered skin. 

Aang gave him a searching look, from head to toe. His eyes landed on Zuko’s phoenix tail, on his face, on his armor, on the white knuckled hand at his side, then darted to Uncle Iroh, and to Zaia at his feet. Gears turned. 

“Why are you looking for him? You’re a teenager.” 

“I am the prince of the Fire Nation,” Zuko snapped. “I am more than capable.” 

Aang held up one hand in surrender, the other wrapped around his staff. “I’m sure you are,” he agreed, and sent Zuko a bright grin. “I was just wondering.” 

Zaia slunk away with a flick of her fluffy golden tail. 

Katara frowned. “The Avatar hasn’t been seen in a hundred years,” she said slowly. She met Sokka’s eyes, confusion plain on her face. 

Zuko felt like he might vibrate out of his skin. Hot rage burned in his veins. Black smoke spilled from his nostrils and he tried not to set everything around him ablaze. 

“I know that!” And he did. He knew that very, very well. “My father wants me to prove myself. I must bring him the Avatar to regain my honor.”

Sokka made a slight noise and leaned towards Aang. “Isn’t his honor the only thing keeping him from roasting us?” He whispered. 

Zuko’s fingers clenched, nails digging into his palms hard enough to hurt. Uncle Iroh lay a hand on his trembling shoulder, but Zuko shook it off. His vision darkened with fury, pale face flushed with rage and humiliation, masking the tiny, lingering pinprick of hurt that never faded. His banishment was like a festering wound. Perhaps the physical injury had healed, but it left a soul-deep welt in Zuko, leaking poison like infection into his blood.

Aang didn’t answer Sokka. He was squinting at Zuko. “You don’t seem dishonorable to me,” he said. “I mean, we haven’t been the best guests, but you haven’t attacked us yet,” he pointed out. His tone was bright and reasonable. “Why do you need to get your honor back?” 

Zuko was breathing hard. This child was testing his patience, which wasn’t very good to begin with. Zuko had never been a calm boy, and since his banishment his fuse was short and volatile. He ground his teeth, huffing a mouthful of fire. 

“I need the Avatar to return home,” he managed, voice strangled. The flame in his hand flared. The air rippled and wavered in the heat. 

Aang tipped his head. “To go home? But-” 

Zuko’s last thread of restraint snapped. He roared, throwing a fistful of searing fire off the side of the ship. “Tell me where he is or get off my ship,” he howled. 

Katara, her dark complexion ashen, stepped back. 

There was a metallic clatter, and Zaia tumbled into a view, a tangle of golden limbs and fluttering wings. She was purring, loud enough that Zuko could hear it from a few feet away. She held Sokka’s boomerangs between her large, soft paws. She swatted it in front of her and pounced, landing claws first, then rolled over and kicked it with her back legs. 

All eyes landed on her, their surprise palpable. 

“My boomerang!” Sokka cried. 

Zaia went rigid, pupils contracting into slits. She made a trilling sound at the back of her throat and tipped her head, oversized ears splaying out on the deck. 

“Give me that,” Sokka snapped, lunging.

Zaia hissed, dropping the boomerang and streaking away to hide behind Zuko’s legs. She peered around one of his boots and glared at the Water Tribesman. Sokka glowered right back. 

Aang muffled a snicker behind his hand. Even Katara looked startled out of her indignation. The flame in Zuko’s hand shrunk a bit as Uncle Iroh laughed.

Sokka scooped the boomerang up and slid it into its holster. 

Zuko extinguished his flame and crossed his arms. Zaia pounced on the end of his pointed shoe. Zuko gritted his teeth and didn’t look down at her. It seemed like the intimidation factor of his scar and the sheer absurdity of a cat batting at his ankles cancelled eachother out. 

He shook his shoe to dislodge her. She chirruped, recovered, and launched another assault. Letting out a slow breath, Zuko shoved her off again. 

She made a deeply offended noise and grabbed his foot between her paws, so he was standing on one leg. He cursed and glared at her. 

Her eyes were huge, the pupils swallowing most of the burnished iris. She seemed to be laughing at him, a comically innocent expression on her feline face. 

“What has gotten into you?” He muttered. 

Zaia let out a coughing chuff and twisted, tail lashing, pale, turning her plush stomach fur towards the blue sky. Zuko leaned down and scooped her into his arms. 

She seemed thrilled by this result, her purring ratcheting up. She pressed her soft face to his scarred cheek and rubbed. Her whiskers tickled.

Zuko pinched his nose and let out an aggrieved sigh. 

Aang was grinning, not the mocking expression Azula often wore, but open and honest and kind. Katara had softened, teetering on some no man’s land of unreadable emotion between hate and amusement. 

Sokka laughed outright, pointing. 

Zuko exhaled a fist sized plume of flames, narrowing his eyes. Zaia didn’t flinch, but Sokka’s guffaws died fast. 

“She’s not afraid of fire?” Aang asked. 

Zuko scowled at him. “Of course not. Golden Haw-Cats don’t burn.” 

Aang’s expression dropped, a crease of consternation appearing between his brows. “What? Yes, they do. I mean, as far as I know, anyway. I’ve never actually seen it…” he trailed off. 

“Zaia doesn’t burn,” Zuko repeated. He held up a palmful of fire, a few inches from Zaia. Not close enough to singe her fur, even if it could be burnt, but an open invitation. 

Zaia took it. She reached out and swatted the flames playfully with a delighted vocalization. 

“Huh. Guess he was right, Aang,” Sokka said, scratching the back of his neck.

Aang didn’t look convinced. He stared at Zaia, brow pinched. “I- I don’t think that’s right,” he said. 

Zaia stopped batting the flames and cocked her head at him. 

“How long have you had her?” Aang asked. He kept eye contact with Zaia. 

“Since I was born,” Zuko replied. 

One of Aang’s eyebrows twitched up. “How old is she?” 

“I don’t know. She was an adult when she showed up,” Zuko replied, not clear on where the questioning was going. 

A new gust of cold wind rushed across the deck. At his shoulder, Uncle Iroh shifted, clearing his throat. 

Zuko shook himself. “I don’t have time for this,” he growled, and set Zaia down. She made a disappointed sound and sprawled out on the metal, looking up at him with beseeching eyes. “The Avatar, now.” 

Katara threw her hands into the air. “How many times do we have to say it?” She cried. “The Avatar isn’t here. He isn’t anywhere.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

Katara stamped her foot. Several teacups fell over. “We’re telling the truth. Not that it would matter to you,” she said, bitterness thick. 

Zuko nodded. “Alright. Then I’ll search your village myself.” 

Sokka and Katara’s eyes widened in horror. Aang looked between them and Zuko, white faced. 

“Lieutenant Jee,” Zuko shouted. 

Jee snapped to attention. 

“Escort them off the ship, then take us into the village. Ram the wall down, if you have to.” 

“Sir,” Jee replied. 

Zuko almost tripped over Zaia as he turned to stalk away. She gave him an arch look. 

“Fire Nation,” Sokka spat. In his mouth, it sounded like a curse. He drew his boomerang. 

Zuko tensed himself for an attack, pleased. If the Water Tribe boy broke the parley, then he was within his rights to fight back without tarnishing his reputation further. 

Ducking the boomerang was easy, the first time. Only Zaia’s shriek of alarm let him doge the return arc. Even then, the boomerang sheared off several strands of his phoenix tail. 

Sokka caught the boomerang and scowled. His sister settled into a fighting stance, nervous, but determined. 

A dark strand of tea rose from the table. 

“Waterbender,” Zuko breathed, and began to turn towards her. Before he could strike, Sokka let out a war cry and lunged. 

Behind him, Aang protested loudly. Several of Zuko’s crew gathered up their weapons and began to approach. 

Zuko intercepted Sokka’s blow and swept his legs out from under him, dumping him on the _Wani’_ s deck with a thump. 

Katara gathered the cooling tea around her and flung out her arms. Zuko’s crew flinched, but the tea went in the wrong direction, and fell to the deck with a useless splash. A few droplets landed on Zuko’s boots and he almost laughed. 

Azula she was not. 

Sokka tried to get up again, but Zuko snatched a pike and whacked him across the shoulders. 

Then there was a whistle, and an invisible force caught Zuko across the chest. He flew back several feet and hit the wall with a metallic clang. There were several more thumps and a few splashes as his crew met a similar fate. 

With a groan, Zuko lifted his head. Zaia was pressed into the doorframe, fur and feathers puffed up so she resembled a spiky ball more than a cat. 

In the center of the deck, Aang stood with his staff held diagonally across his body, wearing a grim expression. 

_Airbender,_ said Zuko’s bewildered mind. 

“You’re the avatar?” He blurted, incredulous and enraged. 

Aang didn’t meet his gaze. Katara stared at him, her mouth open in shock. Sokka, from his place on the ground, looked just as stunned. 

_They didn’t know_ , Zuko realized, and felt a small flicker of guilt. He squashed it before it could take root and pushed himself to his feet, raising a hand. His heart beat fast. The Avatar was right in front of him. His way home was within reach. After three years, his search could come to an end. He and Uncle could go _home._

_Uncle_. His head snapped around. Uncle sat near the wall, rubbing his head, a faint scowl on his lips. He looks disgruntled, but otherwise fine. Cool relief trickled down the back of Zuko’s neck.

He returned his attention to Avatar and began to advance. Around the airbender, Zuko’s remaining crew lowered their pikes and marched forwards, closing the circle.

The Avatar raised his hands. “Wait!” He cried. His grey eyes locked onto Zuko’s, wide and panicked. “If I go with you, will you leave their village alone?” 

“Yes,” Zuko agreed, without a moment of hesitation. 

“Aang-” Katara protested. 

“And you’ll let Sokka and Katara go?” 

“Yes.” 

The Avatar spun his staff upright and held it away from himself. He gave Zuko a small nod. 

“Then I’ll go with you.” 

“No, Aang,” Katara protested. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay.” Aang smiled at her. “Take care of Appa for me until I get back.” 

Zuko didn’t register Katara’s devastated expression. It felt like his heart would burst from his chest. He had done it. So many had said it was impossible, but he had done it. He was going home. Unable to speak, he flicked his hand at the crew. 

Two stepped forward to escort the Avatar to the brig. Their faces were hidden behind their helmets, but they moved with caution. A third took the Avatar’s staff and brought it to Zuko.

Two more approached the Water Tribe siblings. One hauled Sokka to his feet while the other herded a reluctant Katara to the gangplank, which began to lower. 

Zuko tipped his head towards the ocean, remembering the splashes he’d heard. A handful of crew members scrambled for ropes. Firebenders could survive sub zero temperatures for a time, but Zuko wouldn’t want to leave them in the water for any longer than necessary. Armor wasn’t light. 

Triumph swelled in Zuko’s chest as Sokka and Katara vanished from view. Uncle Iroh stood and walked to his side. 

“We’re going home, Uncle,” Zuko breathed. Louder, he called, “Set a course for the Fire Nation!” 

The helmsman saluted. 

Zuko turned and stalked to his quarters, a riot of emotions running wild in his head. His chest and back ached from the fight, but he barely felt it. There was an odd, giddy feeling swirling through him, part joy, part shock. 

He propped the Avatar’s staff against the wall, washed his face in a basin, and sat on his mattress, staring at nothing. 

Zaia slunk into the room. She didn't climb onto his lap to sleep. Instead, she sat by the door, a still, silent sentinel. She didn’t look at him.

One thought danced through Zuko’s head. _Home._

It had been so long. He let out a slow breath, the candles on his desk rising and falling in time. 

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there, blank and reeling, when Zaia jumped to her paws. She let out a low grumble, staring at the closed door. 

Confused, Zuko opened it. A clang echoed down the hallway. Zuko grabbed Zaia and flattened himself to the wall. He heard muffled shouting. The air bender must have escaped. Zuko’s stomach heaved. 

The Avatar would come for his staff. Hopefully. A kernel of fear hardened in his gut. The candles brightened. 

“My staff!” 

The Avatar darted into Zuko’s room, not bothering to check it for hostiles first. Foolish. Young. 

Zuko slammed the door closed behind him. Zaia flipped out of his arms and sat, licking one paw. 

“Looks like I underestimated you,” Zuko said. 

The monk whirled around, startled. For a moment, they locked eyes. Zuko dropped into a fighting stance. He lost.

The Avatar escaped, because of course he did. 

Prince Zuko hadn’t been born lucky. 

* * *

His dreams that night were fraught, plagued by the scent of burning flesh. 

He saw his father, standing over him, heard Azula’s laughter in the shadowed corner of the throne room, her smooth words taunting. He felt his mother’s hand slip from his. No matter how much he called to her, she wouldn’t face him. He tried to follow her, but he could never catch up. 

He was always chasing something that he couldn’t reach. 

  
  
  



	4. Agni Kai

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zaia meets Commander Zhao. They don't get along.  
> (Tw: Blood.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Rolls up months later with Starbucks and a chapter twice as long as it should be* 'Sup.  
> Heads up, the changes Zaia makes will start pretty small and spiral, so a lot of this chapter isn't terribly different than the original episode. Also, TW for this chapter: Blood and violence. Minor maiming? And violence against children, but that's par for the course with this show ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> If you want to avoid the blood/maiming, stop reading at "Zaia launched herself bodily forward..." You can pick back up at "Zuko was seated on his cot..."

There was no one on earth that Zaia hated more than Fire Lord Ozai. Twelve years of emotional abuse, capped off by mutilating and disowning a child, in addition to numerous other crimes, were difficult to outdo. That said, Commander Zhao was rocketing towards the lowest, bloodiest corner of Zaia’s esteem. 

She lashed her tail and narrowed her golden eyes, glaring at his smug face. He loomed over Zuko and Iroh, much like the navy ships towered over the  _ Wani.  _

Zuko stammered something about an Earth Kingdom ship, and Zaia sighed. Zuko was an honest boy by nature, and his lies left much to be desired. Zhao saw right through it. She could see it in the sharp edge of his smile. 

“Join me for a drink?” He leered. 

Zaia bit back a snarl, pressing her warm flank along Zuko’s leg. Her shoulder came up to just above his knee, which meant she was even smaller in comparison to Zhao. 

Zhao’s dark amber eyes flickered to her, meeting her brilliant stare for a heartbeat. The corner of his lip curled. Zaia showed a hint of long, sharp teeth. 

“Sorry,” Zuko said, before Zhao could comment on her presence, “but we have to go.” 

Zaia brightened, some of the fur along her spine smoothing. She would prefer it if they escaped the port without Zhao mentioning what she’d done to Ozai. Zuko wouldn’t take it well. 

“Prince Zuko,” Iroh protested, and Zaia’s hopes plummeted. “Show commander Zhao your respect.” 

Zaia made a coughing avian noise, one that she hoped conveyed just how much she ‘ _ respected _ ’ the man. Iroh ignored her and turned towards the commander. 

“We would be honored to join you. Do you have any Ginseng? It’s my favorite.” He walked past Zhao with his head held high. 

Zuko, Zhao, and Zaia all hesitated. Zhao narrowed his eyes on Zaia. She stared back, daring him to say she wasn’t welcome. He didn’t. She suspected the only reason he didn’t put his foot down was because most of the Fire Nation citizens who knew what had happened between Zuko, Zaia, and Ozai were convinced that she was a malevolent spirit. Even a man like Zhao would tread carefully around that. 

As soon as Zhao’s back was turned, Zuko threw his hands up, flames arcing around his fists, and snarled, before storming after Iroh. Zaia trotted at his heels, wide, soft pads soundless on the dock. Her whiskers twitched. 

After years at sea, the bright, briny scent of the ocean had faded to the edge of her awareness. The dock was almost eerily silent. She couldn’t hear the cawing of sea birds or the shouting of deckhands anywhere. The seabirds must have been frightened off after one too many fireballs, and any hands not on guard duty were hiding from the chill. The faint scent of smoke from their fires wafted on the biting air. 

Zaia eyed the clusters of sharpened barricades as they passed, wary. Clumps of snow dotted the pale ground, a sharp contrast to the austere red and grey tents flying Fire Nation pennants. A watchtower cut through the pale, flat sky, its regular, geometric shape at odds with the mountain range in the distance. 

Zhao led them to the largest of the tents, the front bearing a golden flame emblem. The entrance was flanked by two armed guards and a pair of braziers. 

Zao stopped in front of it. “Would your…  _ pet  _ like to remain outside?” 

Zaia stiffened, tail twitching. Zhao knew she was no pet. She felt the fur on her shoulders raise, her ears swiveling back. 

“No,” Zuko said flatly. 

Zaia’s tail curled, smug. 

Zhao didn’t grimace. 

“Very well.” He pushed back the flap of the tent and let them in. Zaia got the sense he would have liked to kick her in the ribs as she passed, but he restrained himself. 

Warm air embraced them as they entered, threading gentle fingers through Zaia’s fur. Hazy golden light gleamed on the plush red carpeting and pale walls, giving the room a rich, rosy cast. A large world map took pride of place in the room, and a rack of weapons gleamed in the glow. 

Zhao gestured for Zuko to take a seat at a small table, where two chairs and a tea set waited. Zuko sat. Zaia curled up by his feet, tense, while Iroh began to poke around. 

Zhao crossed to a large map on the wall, turning his back to Zuko.  _ Poor etiquette,  _ Zaia noted,  _ and, with anyone else, dangerous. A turned back is liable to be stabbed. _

Then she tuned Zhao out, studying the tent. It was nice enough. A bit empty, for a man of Zhao’s greed and pride. At least it was warm. The cold didn’t bother Zaia too much -Golden Hawk-Cats were meant for places of high elevation- but a cat was a cat, spirit-made-flesh or not. 

She luxuriated in the warmth, ignoring the drone of Zhao’s voice, listening instead to the hiss and crackle of flames and pennants snapping in the breeze. Her eyes narrowed into lazy slits, fixed on the entrance. 

The crash of falling weapons startled her out of her haze. She shot to her feet, startled, fur and feathers standing on end. Zuko’s lip twitched, amusement easing his tension, and stroked her spine. Zaia sat back down and folded her tail over her paws, calming her racing heart. 

She glared at Iroh, twitching her ears in irritation. 

“Er, my fault, entirely,” Iroh said. 

Zhao lifted one eyebrow, watching Zuko pet Zaia. She wondered how much he knew. What had he been told? That a cat that came up to a grown man’s knee had mauled the Fire Lord, and he hadn’t been able to do a thing? Unlikely. Ozai was too proud. Anything Zhao knew he’d put together himself, and he had no proof. 

Footsteps crunched in the snow outside the tent. 

“We haven’t found him yet,” Zuko lied. It was almost convincing. Almost. His fingers tightened in Zaia’s fur. 

“Did you really expect to? The Avatar died a hundred years ago, along with the rest of the Airbenders.” 

Zuko looked away, the corners of his lips turning down. A shadow of something cold and ugly twisted behind his eyes. Pain. Frustration. Guilt, maybe. 

Zaia’s tail lashed as she remembered their visits to the air temples. Rage and grief bubbled in her chest. The footsteps grew closer. Zaia tensed, feathers rustling. There was a scent in the air that made her hackles rise. 

Zhao was too smug. 

Zaia stood, ears swiveling. Zuko frowned at her. 

“Unless you found some evidence that the Avatar is alive.” 

Zaia didn’t like the smile in his voice. It sounded predatory. Zuko opened his mouth to reply, but a low, rumbling growl escaped Zaia’s throat. 

“Zaia?” Zuko asked.

Iroh stopped inspecting the corners of the tent and wandered closer, sharp amber eyes betraying his loose posture. He and Zuko exchanged a tense look. 

“Thank you very much for your hospitality, Commander Zhao,” Iroh began, giving Zhao a wide, genial smile, “but I think it is time my nephew and I get on our way. There are repairs to make, after all, and I believe dear Zaia is getting uncomfortable.” 

Zhao’s expression twitched, eyes narrowing a hair. “We wouldn’t want that,” he said. 

Zai glared, the rumble in her chest getting louder. Footsteps approached the tent. Zaia butted the back of Zuko’s knees, shoving him forwards. He gave her an odd look, half disgruntled, half relieved. Before he could slip from the tent, however, three guards entered.

Two crossed their pikes, blocking Zuko’s exit. The third bypassed the young prince, approaching Zhao. 

“Commander Zhao,” he reported, “We interrogated the crew, as you instructed.” 

Zuko went rigid, a flash of fury darting across his pale face. Zaia pressed her side against his legs. Zuko and his crew had a strained relationship, but they were still Zuko’s people, and he felt responsible for them. The thought of Zhao’s guards pressuring them into confession stung. The thought that Zhao’s men might not have had to stung worse. 

“They confirmed that prince Zuko had the Avatar in custody, but let him escape.” 

The slight needled, and Zuko tensed further. Zhao smiled, slow and reptilian. 

“Now,” he purred, sauntering over to loom at Zuko’s shoulder and leaning in, close enough that his breath was warm against Zuko’s undamaged ear, “remind me. How exactly was your ship damaged?” 

Zuko turned on his heel, golden gaze hard. He met Zhao’s eyes fearlessly, even though the Commander towered over him. At his side, Zaia’s continued to snarl, flexing her long claws so they ripped through the carpet and into the dirt below. 

Zhao’s gaze flickered to her, darkening with hate. He stepped back, mock-conscientious, and made a sweeping gesture, wordlessly inviting Zuko to sit back down. 

Zai bit at Zuko’s pant leg, trying to pull him towards the door, but he ignored her, marching back into the tent with his chin high. Zaia mewled and swatted at his ankle. When he didn’t respond, she turned beseeching eyes on Iroh. 

The General’s friendly mask had dropped, deep lines of worry and resignation carved into his kind face. He wanted to pull Zuko from the room just as badly as she did, but he couldn’t. Minutely, he shook his head, and sat in the other chair. 

Zaia huffed at him, then jumped into Zuko’s lap. The fur along her spine stood out in thick spikes, and her feathers bristled. Zuko tried to push her off, grinding his teeth and refusing to look down at her, unscarred cheek pink with embarrassment.

Unwilling to hurt him, Zaia fell back to the carpet with a thump, then immediately turned a leaped back up. Zuko growled low in his throat, his fingers growing warm with restrained flame and a hint of smoke curling from his nostrils. 

Zhao ignored them both.

“So a twelve-year-old boy bested you and your firebenders. You’re more pathetic than I thought.” 

Zaia snarled. 

Zuko’s hands balled into fists. His whole body shook with rage. “I underestimated him once, but it will not happen again.” 

“No it will not,” Zhao said, not even turning to look at them, “because you will not have a second chance.” 

Zuko flinched. “Commander Zhao, I’ve been hunting the Avatar for two years and I-”

Zhao whirled, fire swirling before him in a blazing arc. “And you failed!” 

Zuko jerked in his chair, instinctively twitching to shield the left side of his face. He caught the motion before it could betray him, but Zaia leapt to her feet with a yowl of rage, spreading her wings in a russet shield. 

Zhao paused for a split second, meeting the spirit’s eyes squarely. His lip curled.

“Capturing the Avatar is too important to leave in a teenager’s hands.” He stopped several inches away from Zuko’s knees, just out of clawing range, but even then, he loomed over the smaller prince. “He’s mine now.” 

Zaia’s entire body shook with the force of her growl, outraged. _Mine,_ _he says_ _as if the world spirit were so easily contained. Mine, he says. Ha!_

Zuko moved like he wanted to lunge, but Zaia’s weight kept him pinned down. Her mantled wings created a flesh-and-feather barricade between prince and commander. Livid, she stared Zhao down, teeth bared.  _ Touch him,  _ she dared.  _ Lay a finger on him. Just try it.  _

Zhao took a half-step back. Even though the rumors of what she’d done to Ozai were unconfirmed, even if Zhao was more pride than sense, even if he had no respect for spirits, or didn’t believe that Zaia was one, forty pounds of protective hawk-cat was enough to make him balk. He jerked a chin at the guards. 

“Keep them here.” 

He marched out of the tent. 

Zuko made a sound of utter rage, slamming his fists down on the armrests, which scorched under his touch. 

Iroh, his mask back in place, smiled at the guards, though he kept one wary eye on Zaia. “More tea, please!” 

Zuko rolled his eyes, and slowly, Zaia folded her wings. She, like her boy, was quivering from head to foot. Hatred as bright as Agni’s flame blazed in her heart. She ached to lung at Zhao’s retreating back and rip him limb from limb, but forced herself to sit back. Her boy burned hot, and he needed someone to temper his fire, not stoke it. She was a being of the sun, but she was a being of the western wind, as well. She knew how to wait. 

She turned and placed two soft pads on Zuko’s shoulders, licking his cheek. He shoved her off hard, and she twisted, landing neatly on all four paws. She gave him an unimpressed glare. 

Iroh chuckled. One of the guards brought him another cup of tea. 

Zuko crossed his arms, sulking. Zaia curled up at his feet, keen golden stare fixed on the entrance of the tent, large ears tracking the movement beyond. No one spoke. 

Some time later, Zhao returned. 

Zaia sprang to her feet, putting herself between him and Zuko, coat bristling. 

“My search party is ready. Once I’m out to sea, my guards will escort you back to your ship, and you’ll be free to go.” 

Zuko treated him to a mutinous glare. “Why? Are you worried I’m going to try and stop you?”

Zaia sighed, and Zhao laughed. 

“You? Stop me? Impossible.” 

Zaia swiped her tongue across her teeth.  _ That arrogance will get you into trouble someday, Commander. I dearly hope I’m there to see it.  _

Just beyond the entrance to the tent, the wind sighed. Zhao, Zaia knew at once, would not have an easy voyage at sea. 

Zuko shot to his feet. 

“Don’t underestimate me, Zhao. I will capture the Avatar before you.” 

Zaia couldn’t restrain a quiet chuff, irritated and amused in equal measure. Her boy didn’t have it in his heart to turn over a child to his father, not really, no matter who they were. Equally, her boy had far too much pride, an echo of the same arrogance that dogged Zhao, though it stemmed from a very different source.

Iroh stood, intervening in the heated exchange. 

“Prince Zuko,” he warned, “that’s enough.” 

Zhao ignored him. 

“You can’t compete with me. I have hundreds of warships under my command, and you? You’re just a banished prince. No home, no allies-”

Zaia hissed, the sound of steam and serpents, stepping forward, her golden head low.  _ Are you certain of that, Commander? Are you quite sure?  _

Zhao paused. A nasty expression crossed his face. He met Zuko’s eyes squarely and aimed for the jugular. “Your own father doesn’t even want you.” 

Zuko erupted, anger born from hurt and fueled by his own doubts, his own denials and deep-buried fears, bubbling to the surface. “You’re wrong,” he snarled. “Once I deliver the Avatar to my father, he will welcome me home with honor,” his tone was sure, but his eyes drifted to the ground, before snapping back up, “and restore my rightful place on the throne.” 

He didn’t, he wouldn’t, and Zuko, Zaia, and Iroh all knew it, though Zuko refused to believe it. 

“If your father really wanted you home, he would have let you return by now, Avatar or no Avatar, but in his eyes, you are a failure, a disgrace to the Fire Nation.” 

Zaia hesitated. She could sense the hurt coming from her boy, see it in the defensive set of his shoulders, the stubborn just of his jaw, in the way his eyes sparkled just a bit too brightly and his fists balled at his sides. She could hear it in the tightness of his voice when he responded, in the ragged edge to his breathing. 

She wanted, more than anything, to soothe that hurt away. To show him that he was wanted, and he was loved. That the spirits were with him in more ways than one. That he was a favored son. But Zhao was right. Gallingly, maddeningly, absolutely right. Ozai  _ didn’t want Zuko back,  _ and Zuko needed to learn that, no matter how much it hurt, or he would never be free. 

So Zaia did nothing. 

“That’s not true,” Zuko argued. 

“You have the scar to prove it.” 

Zuko’s face twisted, and he lunged with a cry of rage, shoving Zaia out of the way so he could stand nose to nose with Zhao. 

Zaia mewled in protest, winding her way around Zuko’s ankles, trying to nudge him back, away from Zhao’s quick temper and brutal retaliation. Zuko stood firm. 

Zaia let out a despairing warble. Let it never be said that Zuko lacked courage, though Zaia dearly wished it was tempered by self-preservation, which he seemed to lack entirely. 

“Maybe you’d like one to match,” Zuko spat, glaring up at Zhao. 

“Is that a challenge?” Zhao asked, mocking laughter lacing his tone. 

Zaia whined and butted her head against Zuko’s shins. Zuko could beat Zhao. She was certain of it. Zuko, for all his doubts and faults, was an excellent firebender. He was better than almost any other child his age, better even than many adults. Not for natural talent- not that he lacked a natural skill, but he certainly didn’t have Azula’s prodigal gift, or even Ozai and Iroh’s inherent inclinations- but for his persistent inability to give up on anything, ever, regardless of how difficult it was. 

That said, the last time Zuko had challenged a master bender…

Zaia shoved harder, succeeding in forcing Zuko a half-step back, though the boy held Zhao’s gaze. 

Black amusement curled Zhao’s lip. “It seems your little pet is trying to protect you.” 

“I don’t need protecting,” Zuko spat back, shoving Zaia away with a foot. It wasn’t hard enough to hurt, but it did send her tumbling to the side with a chirrup of alarm. “Agni Kai.” 

Zaia wailed, and Iroh let out a small, worried breath. Zuko looked pathetically tiny in front of Zhao, shorter and slimmer and so, so young. 

“At sunset,” Zuko continued, ignoring Zaia’s cries. 

“Very well,” Zhao agreed. He dropped out of his aggressive stance into stiff, upright formality. “It’s a shame your father won’t be here to watch me humiliate you.” 

Anyone human would have missed the minuscule hitch in Zuko’s breathing, but Zaia heard it. She flexed her claws, ripping the carter fibers underpaw. Zhao turned and tossed one last parting shot over his shoulder.

“I guess your uncle will do.” 

The guards followed him out. 

Iroh’s face tightened, fingers tensing around his teacup. “Prince Zuko,” he said, alarm and desperate fear for his nephew thick in his voice, “have you forgotten what happened last time you dueled a master?” 

“I will never forget.” 

Zaia let out a sound that, in a human throat, might have been a sob. Around the tent, the wind whistled and cried, kicking up snowdrifts. The candlelight felt cold. 

Zaia darted across the tent and launched herself at Zuko, keening. Zuko caught her, stumbling under her weight. She tucked her face under his jaw, pressing her cheek into the curve of his neck insistently, purring and whining, kneading the front of his armor. 

Iroh stepped forward and lay a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. His face was creased with worry. Zaia could smell the fear on his skin. Zuko looked away.

He was trying for brave and unbothered, and he nearly managed it, but his arms were tight around Zaia’s warmth. Now that the blind anger was cooling, he was terrified. But he’d lain down the challenge, and he wouldn’t back out of it now. Not for anyone, but especially not for Zhao. 

“We had best get you ready, then,” Iroh rumbled. His gaze was cast down. 

In that moment, his cheery, doddering persona dropped, and he looked so old and weary that Zaia’s heart broke. Alone in Zhao’s tent, General Iroh, Dragon of the West, and Prince Zuko, Heir to the Dragon Throne, were nowhere to be found. In their places were an old, grieving man and a sixteen-year-old boy. An uncle who loved his nephew, and a nephew who loved his father.

Outside the tent, the wind froze. Zaia went rigid in Zuko’s arms. The air itself crackled, and ancient power, unseen for a century, returned to the world. Zaia lifted her head, scenting the air. 

The Avatar was back. 

The world was changing. 

Zaia hoped desperately that her boy would be able to change with it. 

Sunset came sooner than any of them would have liked. Zaia sat at Iroh’s ankled, tense as a bowstring, while Iroh tried to impart last-minute wisdom to Zuko. 

“Remember your firebending basics, Prince Zuko.” A thread of tension ran through his words. “They are your greatest weapons.”

“I refuse to let him win,” Zuko replied, standing.

Cool evening air threaded through his phoenix tail, carrying the scent of smoke and salt. Overhead, four massive braziers burned under the painted sky, crackling in the silence. Now and then, the wood would pop and spit sparks. The walls cast long, deep shadows.

Agni watched from low above the ocean, the last of his light glimmering against La’s glossy waves, unseen beyond the stone sides of the arena.

It was Zaia’s Spirit-given task to look out for Zuko, but even so, she closed her eyes and prayed to those greater than herself. 

_ Please, be with him. I tried, but I cannot protect him from this.  _

She would intervene to save Zuko’s life, if it came to that, and only then. Otherwise, this was Zuko’s fight. He would win or lose on his own merit. 

Wind swirled across the stone ground, sending pebbles and dust skittering. Overhead, the sky seemed to bleed. 

Across from Zuko, Zhao stood and turned, shawl falling to the floor. “This will be over quickly.” 

Both firebenders settled into an opening stance. 

At Zaia’s side, Iroh’s breath came quick, and his heart beat fast. His hands were folded into his sleeves, hiding the way his fingers shook. Zaia let out a low purr and rubbed against his calf. 

He looked down, rueful. There was a deep wrinkle between his grey brows. “You cannot help him, then?” 

Zaia met his eyes. Then, sad and solemn, she shook her golden head. Iroh sighed and turned his attention to the duel.

Zuko, impatient as ever, struck first. 

Zhao dodged every one but the last, which he batted away, leaving Zuko panting. Then both benders were moving, weaving and dodging, orange and red flame filling the arena with flashes of light and heat. Fear gripped Zaia’s heart. 

“Basics, Zuko! Break his roots,” Iroh cried. 

Zhao struck, pushing Zuko back again and again. 

Zaia got to her feet, trembling, her tail lashing. Iroh was a coil of terror beside her. 

_ Zuko is a better bender. He is.  _ Zaia reminded herself.  _ He must be _ .

But her boy was angry, and rash, and Zhao was experienced. He knocked Zuko to the ground.

Zuko skidded back several feet, raising angry red friction burns along his back and shoulders. Some of the gravel split his skin, lodging in a myriad of small cuts. Zuko sat up, groaning, and Zhao lunged. 

For a moment, Zaia couldn’t breathe. The wind shrieked in her ears and fire surged towards Zuko’s frightened face. 

_ Not again, not again, notagain _ . She couldn’t fail to protect him again. 

Iroh snatched her off the ground before she could launch herself between the duelists.

Zuko, it turned out, didn’t need her help. He twisted, sweeping Zhao’s leg out from under him and falling into a firm, solid stance. A small smile tugged at his lip, and Zaia went limp with relief. 

Iroh smiled as Zuko forced Zhao back across the stone, forcing him to abandon his stance again and again to keep his feet unburnt, until, at last, he tumbled to the ground. He rolled to a painful stop, wheezing. Zuko darted forwards to stand over him, fists poised. Zhao glared back, helpless. He was beaten, and he knew it. 

“Do it!” He barked. 

Zaia knew he expected to be burnt, just as Zuko had screamed in the tent, but Zuko was a better man than his father. A better man than Zhao. 

He struck, leaving a smoking black starburst on the stones by Zhao’s head. Pure pride welled up in Zaia’s breast. 

The wind sang around her, and the fire in braziers crackled. The setting sun seemed warm, painting the sky in butter yellows and rosy pinks and reds. 

She leapt from Iroh’s arms and sprinted across the dueling ground. 

Zuko stood back, fists falling. 

“That’s it?” Zhao challenged. “Your father raised a coward.” 

_ No,  _ Zaia thought, rejoicing.  _ No, this was not Ozai’s doing. This was all Lady Ursa, and the gentle heart she and her son inherited.  _

“Next time you get in my way, I promise, I won’t hold back,” Zuko snarled. 

Zaia didn’t believe him for a moment, and she was so, so proud. 

Zuko turned his back, returning to Zaia and his Uncle, who were both half-way there already. 

Behind him, Zhao got to his feet, murderous rage carved into his face. Zaia saw his intent a moment before he struck. Her heart sank. 

_ No! _

She and Iroh both moved, quick as lightning. Iroh was fast, but he was only human. 

Zaia launched herself bodily forwards, propelling herself with a powerful downstroke, and collided with Zhao’s extended leg. 

Zaia’s claws sank into the meat of Zhao’s calf, pulling a ragged cry of pain from his throat. Her weight dragged them both down. Scarlet spilled from under her large paws, splattering the stones, and copper flooded her mouth as her teeth closed around Zhao’s foot. His flames dissipated against her spread wings, the heat sweeping back into his face without so much as brushing a startled Zuko. 

Zhao shouted, trying to throw the Hawk-Cat off, but she snarled, shaking her head. The four firebenders on Zhao’s side ran forward with cries of alarm. 

“Zaia!” Zuko cried, darting forward to pry her off of Zhao. 

The commander hurled a handful of fire at Zaia’s face, trying to burn her off, but it swirled harmlessly across her fur. Zaia didn’t burn. Zaia never burned. 

She saw fear take root in Zhao’s eyes. He hadn’t been sure, still wasn’t, probably, but he suspected the truth of her. Good. 

Zuko’s fingers curled around the scruff of her neck and he hauled her back. Reluctantly, she released Zhao’s leg, leaving deep, bloody marks in his flesh. She couldn’t tell for certain, but she thought she might have severed the tendon in his heel, and potentially removed a toe. 

Zuko tugged her away, face white with shock and horror, stammering apologies at Zhao. Behind him, Iroh was very pale, his mouth set in a grim, unsurprised slash. 

Zaia let herself hang limp in Zuko’s grip. She wasn’t sorry for hurting Zhao- he raised a hand against her boy  _ while his back was turned _ , the slimy little coward, how  _ dare  _ he- but Zuko was shaking. 

The other firebenders descended on Zhao, stemming the bleeding. Wordlessly, Iroh put an arm around Zuko’s shoulders and guided him away. 

When they returned to the  _ Wani,  _ Zuko left Zaia on the deck and vanished into his rooms. The crew stared, wide-eyed, at the blood around her mouth and on her paws. She paid them no mind, busily cleaning her fur. They gave her a wide berth. 

Iroh paused by her side, watching his nephew retreat. 

“Was that necessary?” He asked. 

Zaia gave him an arch look. 

_ I am what I am _ ,  **_Dragon_ ** .  _ A hunter is a hunter, and I have never denied my nature.  _

Iroh sighed. She could not speak to him in words, but her expression was clear enough. “I will not deny that, perhaps, Commander Zhao deserved it, but Zuko is a gentle boy. He is upset.” 

Zaia bared her teeth. They were still stained red.

_ Better upset and alive than at peace on the pyre.  _

Iroh gave her a long, assessing look, then bowed shallowly. Slowly, as though burdened by a great weight, he followed Zuko below deck. 

Zaia licked the blood from between her claws as Tui peaked above the waves. 

Zuko was seated on his cot when Iroh entered the room. He was still shirtless, and there were a few damp drops of crimson on his dark pants. Iroh’s heart ached. 

“Are you alright, my nephew?” 

Zuko flinched, then glared. “I’m fine,” he growled. 

Iroh sighed and crossed the room, sitting beside Zuko, close enough to feel the heat still radiating from his skin. 

“It is alright not to be alright,” he said. 

Zuko stared at him as if doubting his sanity. Affection warmed Iroh’s chest. Gently, he placed a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko went stiff. 

After a long moment of silence, Zuko finally spoke again, his voice quiet. “I know that Zaia’s a hunter,” he began, hesitant, then trailed off. 

“But it is easy to forget,” Iroh agreed. He tipped his head back, looking at the dull iron ceiling. “It is hard to see someone we love do something we disagree with.” 

“Zhao deserved it,” Zuko snapped.

Iroh hummed. “Perhaps he did. He dishonored himself, striking at your back. Perhaps he didn’t. Whether he did or did not is irrelevant. It is never easy for good men to see another suffer.” 

Zuko blinked once, and Iroh gave him a gentle smile. 

“You, on the other hand, my dear nephew, did yourself credit. Even in exile, you behaved with honor and integrity. I am proud of you.”

Zuko flushed and looked away, shoulders rising. 

“I- thank you, Uncle.” 

Iroh chuckled and patted Zuko’s shoulder, standing and crossing the room. He stopped in the doorframe and looked back. 

“Zaia loves you very much,” he said. “There are few things we would not do for those we love, even when we know they are horrible. The fact that you would feel for Zhao, even after he has wronged you, is a testament to your character.”

Zuko’s shoulders rose further. He drew in on himself, making his lithe frame even smaller, and Iroh felt a pang of grief. How, he wondered, could his dear nephew stand so bold and unafraid against a man who would do him harm, and retreat from simple affection? 

Bitterness rose on the back of his tongue. Ozai had much to answer for. 

Heart heavy, he left Zuko to his thoughts. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Kyoshi Island!  
> Also, for those of you who want a clearer picture of Zaia, she's an Asian golden cat/harris hawk hybrid. (Are harris hawks native to Asia? No. But they're some of the only hawks that are 'pack' animals, and they're pretty.)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I... realized I have no idea how long it would take to get from the south pole to Kyoshi Island. Let's just pretend I know what I'm talking about, okay?

Zuko didn’t have it in him to be mad at Zaia for long. Especially not with so many other things to be angry about. The Avatar was as elusive as he was frustrating, and he was a lot of both. It was difficult to refuse Zaia’s soothing presence when Zuko felt ready to vibrate out of his skin. The Avatar was so close that Zuko could feel it, the promise of home nearly in his grasp, but he was as easy to catch as the air he bent. 

At night, Zuko dreamed of Caldera city. In the good ones, he dreamed of his mother, and the turtle duck pond, and his father welcoming him home. He even dreamed of Azula, smiling at him like she did when they were both very small, before she was a prodigy and he was a waste of space. 

On the bad nights, he dreamed of his father's fury, and his sister’s cold laugh, and the empty, dark void where his mother’s warmth should have been. 

Either way, it was easier to bear with Zaia nearby. She was as gentle and steady as she had always been. Still, sometimes Zuko found himself staring at her long teeth when she yawned, or her curved claws when she flexed them against the deck. The memory of scarlet soaking her paws made his stomach turn. 

He didn’t receive word from either Zhao or his father, though he half-expected to get a reprimand. An order to send them Zaia’s head. 

It didn’t come. 

He wasn’t sure why. 

The news about Kyoshi island was surprising, but welcome. Sitting in the ship with no real direction was getting to Zuko. It had been getting to Zuko for more than two years, but it was worse, now. Worse knowing that he was  _ out there _ , that Zuko’s impossible quest wasn’t just a dream, that his father hadn’t sent him on a hopeless spirit-chase, and still not being able to catch up.

He gathered the Komodo rhinos under Zaia’s watchful gaze. He was tempted to leave her behind, but she jumped onto the saddle in front of him, standing like a totem on the rhino’s back, fur and feathers red-gold in the clear sunshine, and he didn’t. 

He remembered the boy in his yellow gi, with his wide grey eyes, and he remembered the small, charred bodies in the temples he’d visited, and he remembered his father’s burning displeasure, and barked, “I want the Avatar alive.” 

Zuko knew the Avatar cycle. He’d read everything he could get his hands on about it. The Avatar wouldn’t escape him, not even in death. 

(The Avatar was a child and he looked at Zaia like she was the most delightful thing he’d ever seen and he complimented Uncle’s tea and Zuko’s honor, and wasn’t that ironic, and he was tiny, and-)

Zuko couldn’t go home without him. He held that thought close, forcing down everything else. He wanted to go home so badly it scalded his ribs and throat. 

Zaia’s tail twitched, tickling his knuckles. Her russet feathers rustled in the crisp salt breeze. 

The Komodo rhinos clattered on the dirt road inland, kicking up dust and disturbing the peaceful day. Snow crunched under their heavy tread, and the sky overhead was pale, startling blue. The sunshine was bright and thin, warmth faint against Zuko’s face. 

Kyoshi was small, unlike the Avatar it was named after, and the village, when it appeared over the horizon, was almost charming. It wasn’t technically part of the Earth Kingdom, but it wasn’t Fire Nation or Water Tribe, and it certainly wasn't Air Nomad. It was also named after Avatar Kyoshi, so Zuko approached with caution. 

(Avatar Kyoshi killed Chin the Conqueror, who was spreading his influence across the entire Earth Kingdom. He wouldn’t have stopped there. 

_ The Avatar is the enemy of the Fire Nation.  _

_ Why? _

Zuko wasn’t comfortable with the parallels, so he pushed them down. His father wasn’t like the so-called Chin the Great. ( _Isn’t he?_ ) The Fire Nation was superior, they were spreading peace and prosperity across the world.)

(Zhao, a commander in the army, struck while Zuko’s back was turned.)

A statue of the imposing woman stood before the town, fans raised, watching with painted wooden eyes. The buildings were tiny wooden homes, with no military outposts that Zuko could see. A small child vanished behind the wall of a porch, frightened, but otherwise, it looked empty. An ambush waiting to happen. 

(A fishing village, neutral for a century before the young Avatar set foot on their shores.)

The chilly, salt-soaked breeze scraped against Zuko’s scar. It stung, even three years later. It shouldn’t have, it was fully healed, but Zuko felt it anyway. Zuko took a steadying breath, inner flame flickering, fighting the chill that soaked into his heavy armor and the needle-sharp wind on his skin. 

His rhino led the group of four. Zaia trilled as it came to a stop, announcing their presence. Zuko squared his shoulders. 

“Come out, Avatar! You can’t hide from me forever.” 

( _ My name’s Aang! _ )

He was willing to sacrifice himself for the Water Tribe outpost. Surely he would be willing to do the same for an actual village. But the town was still and silent. No whirlwind blur of excitable yellow and orange appeared. 

“Find him,” Zuko ordered. 

Zaia shifted, then launched herself into the air with a flurry of feathers. The other Komodo riders nudged their mounts forward, up the pale, snowy path, two to a mount. 

The warriors appeared out of nowhere, swift, silent, and deadly, knocking his men from their mounts in seconds. Their bladed golden fans flashed.

Zuko spared a moment to feel vindicated when they struck. It didn’t last long. 

A woman- a girl, really, she couldn’t be older than he was, though her painted face made it hard to tell- with reddish hair charged him. He had the presence of mind to respect her courage, even as he threw a fistful of fire at her feet. 

She dodged nimbly out of the way, launching herself high over his second strike before the Komodo rhino’s tail slams into her midsection, bowling her off her feet.

Zaia landed atop a nearby building with a thud. Her russet feathers were almost crimson in the clear, southern sunshine, eye-wateringly brilliant against the pale sky and snow-covered mountains. 

For a moment, Zuko saw blood on her paws, soaking into the downy fluff on her chest. He hesitated. 

The Kyoshi warrior jumped to her feet, light as a pantherkeet, and raised her fans for another assault. A second warrior ran to her side, painted face determined. This one wasn’t as small and quick as the first, but her grey-blue eyes gleamed like a whetted blade. She wasn’t wearing the same golden headdress as the first, just an embellished band across her forehead. The first girl must have been their leader.

Zuko’s next attack was cut off by a warning screech from Zaia that came a beat too late. Another warrior dropped from the roof, wrenching him off his rhino, which bolted. 

Zuko hit the ground with a painful thud, the air rushing from his lungs. His helmet went skittering off into the snow. His armor protected him from the worst of the blow, but his ribs still twinged, and his pride smarted. The surprise attack from a smaller figure reminded him too much of Azula for comfort, and for a moment, he expected searing, blue-wreathed hands to reach for his exposed skin. 

“I guess training’s over,” the second warrior quipped. 

Her voice caught Zuko by surprise, because it was rougher than he was expecting, a bit low, and familiar. 

But he didn’t have time to ruminate on that. The warriors closed in, two with their bladed fans high. 

Zuko shoved himself up, despite his protesting ribs and the weight of his armor. He was starting to hate the stuff. It was useful protection, but it was also heavy. He wished he had his Dao swords. 

He didn’t. Instead, he lashed out with a move similar to the one he’d used on Zhao. Fire whipped out, slamming into the warriors, and Zuko landed on his feet. 

One of the girls went flying through a doorway with a sharp cry of surprise. She probably wasn’t burned, her armor was thick and Zuko wasn’t trying to hurt her, so the flames weren’t very hot, but she was gone for the moment. 

The other girl, the leader, hit a wooden beam with a painful smack and collapsed to the ground, clutching the back of her head. Her fans went flying, and she was dazed enough that Zuko could ignore her for the moment. 

The last warrior kept her feet, fists up in a ready stance. Zuko lunged, swiping at her ankles. She dodged the first blow, but Zuko’s second kick knocked her to the ground. She cried out and landed hard on her back. 

Zuko leapt past her, landing in the snow with a thump and a snarl, ready for another opponent. Behind him, the roof of a building burned. 

Zaia flitted across a beam towards it, and he sent her a reproachful glare, dousing the blaze with a deliberate breath and a wave. Stopping fires was harder than starting them, but Zuko had gotten good at it. His temper had lit more than a few blankets, tapestries, rugs, and tunics over the years. 

Zaia skidded to a stop and chirruped. Then, with a flick of her tail, made for the next one. He doused that one too, and she trilled, delighted. 

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, leave me to face them on my own while you play with fire. Thanks,” he muttered. Zaia ignored him, turning her gaze to another small blaze and dropping into a hunting crouch. 

With a sigh, he extinguished all the roofs he could see and held out an arm. 

Zaia made a throaty noise and jumped down, gliding to his side and draping herself around his shoulders. 

Once she settled, Zuko lifted his voice, calling to the whole town. “Nice try Avatar, but these little girls can’t save you.” 

“Hey!” A familiar young voice shouted. “Over here!” 

Zuko spun around, heart leaping.  _ Yes!  _

The Avatar stood before him, all four-and-a-half feet of him. His gentle features were contorted with anger, and he held his staff firmly out in front of him. On any other child, it wouldn’t have been intimidating; he had a poor face for it, too big-eyed and soft cheeked. But Zuko had grown up with angel-faced Azula, and he knew better. Child or not, the Avatar was dangerous. He’d escaped Zuko once. It wouldn’t happen again. 

“Finally.” 

Zuko lunged, Zaia springing off his shoulders and landing in the snow a few feet away. The Avatar batted his first two fireballs away before lifting his staff and spinning it into a blur, lifting him into the air. 

Zuko gritted his teeth, irritated. 

The Avatar dropped to the ground in front of him and lashed out with his staff, which Zuko kicked away. Before he could retaliate, though, the Avatar was gone again. 

Zuko charged after him, wishing that his armor wasn’t so heavy. 

The Avatar got to his feet, summoning two fallen fans to his hand and twirling through the air in an unfamiliar kata. 

Zaia slammed into Zuko’s side, knocking him out of the way. 

The blast of air was strong enough to make the house behind Zuko groan. Zuko rolled to his feet, breathing hard, very glad that Zaia had saved him. That, he noted, was exactly why he needed the armor. Getting thrown through walls without it was a quick way to break a rib. 

He shook the snow off of his shoulders and stood, settling back into his stance. 

Irritated, Zaia dragged herself out of a drift and to her feet, glaring at the cold white powder sinking into her fur and feathers. Tail twitching, she sprang back onto a nearby roof and began licking her flank. 

Zuko scowled at her. 

His moment of distraction cost him. A new blast sent him flying into a snowbank lower down, and the Avatar took to the sky, soaring over the village, out of reach. 

By the time Zuko had scrambled out of the snow, the Avatar and his friends were already on their bison and taking off. 

Zuko sprinted headlong after them, pauldrons clanking. The snow, slush now, after the fight, slid underfoot. 

“Appa, yip, yip!” The Avatar shouted, snapping the reins. 

One of the Kyoshi warriors- no, not a Kyoshi Warrior, the Water Tribe wolf, Zuko realized,  _ that’s _ why his voice was familiar- nearly slipped off the beast’s tail as it took off.

Zuko launched himself forward, fingers just closing around one of the loops in the bison’s saddle. 

For a split second, Zuko felt his world turn on its axis (I’m touching a  _ flying bison.  _ An  _ extinct animal _ .) His front sank several inches into the bison’s fur, some of which managed to get into his mouth and nose. It was coarser than it had looked, long and wiry to protect its plush undercoat from rain and condensation. 

Then gravity kicked it. His shoulder wrenched, hot pain lancing across his chest. Zuko grunted in pain, the edge of the saddle digging into his fingers. 

The Waterbender cried out in alarm. 

“Aang, look out!”

“Appa, go!” The Avatar shouted. 

Zuko grabbed the saddle with both hands, hauling himself up, a snarl of effort on his face. 

Icy water lashed across his cheek, snapping his head to the side. Zuko yelped, grip slipping, before he caught himself. 

The Waterbender stood, balanced precariously on the balls of her feet, in the center of the saddle. More water swirled around her outstretched hands. 

Zuko swore under his breath. 

The village below him was growing smaller, and he felt his stomach clench. Roofs smoldered, singed from the fight. Zuko swallowed a hint of guilt. The damage wasn’t too bad, and almost nothing was actively on fire anymore. Besides, it was the Avatar’s fault, anyway. 

The memory of his mother scowled, her warm golden eyes disapproving.  _ You can’t blame your sister for your own actions, Zuko. She shouldn’t have provoked you, but you’re older. You should know better.  _ Her tone was thick with disappointment. 

His memory of Azula, however, laughed.  _ I think we should burn it all down, don’t you, Zuzu?  _ Fire danced across her fingers, reflected in her cold eyes.  _ They deserve it, after all.  _

The memory of his father lifted a hand, wreathed in flame.  _ You will learn respect, and- _

Zuko wrenched his mind back to the present, anger burning across his skin, fueling him. He flipped himself up the bison’s side, ducking under a stream of liquid. The Waterbender’s blue eyes widened, and she stumbled back, nearly falling as the bison gained altitude. 

The Water Tribe boy ( _ Sokka, don’t be rude _ ) scrambled across the saddle. His face was still covered in thick greasepaint, and he was armed. 

Zuko had a moment to feel his stomach plummet, and realize that he might have made a mistake, before the Water Tribe was in front of him, weapon raised. 

Zuko twisted, trolling across the saddle before popping to his feet, hand wreathed in orange flame. Zaia landed on the edge of the saddle beside him, her eyes wide with alarm, warbling at the back of her throat. 

“You’re a little late, Zi,” Zuko hissed at her. 

She fluffed her fur and chirped. 

The Water Tribe boy paused. “Are you talking to the cat?” 

Zuko felt himself turn scarlet. The air was thinning, freezing cold against his damp cheek, and he focused on his breathing, stoking his inner fire to keep warm. 

“You talk to the bison,” he pointed out defensively. 

“That’s true,” Aang called, sounding perfectly amiable, despite the open hostility crackling in the air. He stood fearlessly on the bison’s head, staff clutched in one hand. Well, he didn’t have to worry about falling, unlike the rest of his passengers. 

Zuko shifted his center of gravity as the bison swayed underfoot, struggling to keep standing. Across from him, both Water Tribe siblings wobbled. 

“You should sit down,” The Avatar offered. “You might fall.” 

“Good,” Sokka cried, waving his club, “We want him to fall!” 

Zuko glared, huffing smoke, and the Waterbender smacked her brother in the stomach.

“Sokka, he might die if he falls.” 

“We might die if he doesn’t!” 

Zuko almost straightened indignantly before his precarious footing shifted again, forcing him to hold a low stance. “I’m not here to kill you.” 

“Suuuuure,” Sokka said, rolling his eyes and leveling his club at Zuko’s nose. “And we should just believe you.” 

Cold air threaded through Zuko’s phoenix tail as the bison rose higher. He could see his breath, heated by his beading, billow out in front of him. 

“I don’t want to kill you,” Zuko insisted. 

“I believe you!” The Avatar volunteered. 

Zuko sent him a narrow-eyed glare. 

“Shut up.” 

The Avatar made a face. It made something twist into complicated knots in Zuko’s gut. 

“How old are you, anyway?” Zuko blurted, before he could stop himself. 

Both Water Tribesmen looked taken aback, but the Avatar beamed. 

“One hundred and twelve!” 

Zuko blinked at him. Surprise and confusion sapped some of his aggression, and his fists uncurled. The flames flickered and died. 

“You don’t look a hundred and twelve.” 

The Avatar scratched the back of his bald head sheepishly. 

“Wellll, I was in an iceberg for most of it.” 

Zuko tipped his head. “An… iceberg?” 

“Uh-hu!” The Avatar nodded enthusiastically, and didn’t explain. 

Zuko looked at the Water Tribe siblings, hoping for more information, but they just looked back at him. Sokka’s lip was twitching, though, and Zuko had the feeling he was being made fun of, somehow. He scowled. 

Zaia hopped down from the edge of the saddle and wandered over to a bundle of fur not far from Sokka. At first, Zuko thought it was one of the Water Tribesmens’ garments, but when Zaia approached, it leaped onto four tiny paws and arched its back, screeching. 

Zuko winced at the noise, and Zaia recoiled. 

“That’s Momo,” the Avatar said. “He’s a flying lemur.” 

“Aang,” Sokka hissed. 

“I can see that,” Zuko said slowly. 

Zaia backed away from the lemur and approached Aa- the Avatar, sniffing at his ankles. The Avatar bent down and scratched between her shoulders, and she purred. 

The bison groaned, shifting trajectory, and Zuko nearly fell over. 

“Oops!” The Avatar said. He twirled like a leaf, floating up to the bison’s head to take the reins again. Zaia let out a disappointed sound, then turned beseeching eyes on Katara. Sokka crossed his arms and glared.

“No way,” he said, shifting as if to stand between them. 

Katara poked his shoulder, and Zaia’s tail drooped. Zuko mouthed ‘ _ traitor’ _ in her direction, and she sniffed. Clearly, she wasn’t thrilled with his frosty attitude in recent days, and was willing to seek cuddles elsewhere.

Zuko wasn’t quite sure what to do next. Neither of the Water Tribe siblings seemed to know, either, and the Avatar wasn’t helping. 

“... Did we kidnap the prince of the Fire Nation?” Sokka asked at last. 

Zuko crossed his arms, fire slipping from between his teeth. 

“I don’t think so,” Katara said. “I mean, we didn’t force him to come.” 

“I’m standing right here,” Zuko snapped. 

Sokka squinted at him. Then he dropped to the saddle, club in his lap, and began to scrub at the makeup on his face. 

“Uh, Sokka, are you sure that’s a good idea?” Katara asked, looking between them nervously. 

Sokka shrugged. “Normally, I’d say no, but what’s he going to do? One wrong move and we shove him over the side, right?” 

Zuko winced. “You could just take me back to my Uncle,” he tried. 

Sokka laughed. “And go anywhere near your ship, and your crew of bloodthirsty firebenders? No way.” 

“My crew isn’t bloodthirsty!” Zuko cried. 

Sokka paused smearing the makeup long enough to shoot him an unconvinced stare. “Yeah, whatever.” 

Finally, the constant shifting of the bison and threat of falling to his death became too much, and Zuko sank down, sitting cross-legged in the saddle. Katara knelt as well, though her expression was cautious and she kept a hand near her canteen. 

Zuko rubbed his hands together, exhaling a mouthful of flames to fend off the cold. Droplets of condensation gathered on his pauldrons, before freezing to the metal. 

Sokka and Katara both flinched at the demonstration of his bending, but the Avatar twisted around, expression open and curious. 

“Woah, what was that?” He asked. 

Zuko frowned at him. “My… breath of fire?” 

Aa- The Avatar. Not Aang, the Avatar- nodded excitedly. “Yeah! I don’t know if I’ve ever seen that before.” 

Zuko looked away, flushing. “It’s not difficult. My uncle taught me.” 

“Can you teach me?” 

Zuko whipped back around. “No!” He cried, stunned. 

The Avatar’s face fell. “Aww.” 

Awkward silence descended once again. Zuko shifted, uncomfortable. 

“Look. I don’t suppose you would be willing to surrender and come back with me peacefully, would you?” He asked. He didn’t think so, but it was worth a try. 

The Avatar cocked his head. His grey eyes were bright, guileless and innocent in a way that reminded Zuko sharply of Ty Lee at his age. 

“Not really,” he said. He sounded genuinely apologetic.

“I don’t get it, Zuko,” Katara said. She was studying him from head to toe, a thoughtful look on her face. Zuko struggled not to squirm.

Zaia slunk back across the saddle and curled up in his lap, a warm, reassuring weight. Zuko stroked her back automatically. 

“You’re, what, sixteen?”

Zuko nodded, wary. He felt like he did whenever Azula smiled at him a touch too widely, opening the conversation with an innocuous question that always, always led to a trap. Instantly, he tried to put his sister out of his mind. She would never have gotten into this situation. Or, if she had, she would have been able to talk or threaten the Avatar and his friends into coming with her in seconds. That, or she would have killed Sokka and Katara and taken the Avatar for herself. Even at twelve, she had been frighteningly efficient. He wondered what she was like at fourteen. 

That thought made his heart ache. The ember of longing in his chest that never died surged up with a vengeance. Spirits help him, he’d been gone long enough that he actually missed  _ Azula.  _

The pang was all the sharper seated across from the Water Tribe wolf and his sister. 

“And you’re Prince of the Fire Nation,” Katara continued, “but you showed up at our village less than a day after we found Aang. We didn’t even know he was the Avatar.” 

Zuko’s gaze flicked to Sokka, who wore a calculating expression, to Aang, who was faced away but clearly listening, if his alert posture was anything to go by, and back to Katara.

“Um,” he began, fiddling with one of Zaia’s feathers, “is that a question, or…?” 

“Yeah. How did you get there so fast?  _ Why  _ did you come so fast, and why were you so sure that we had the Avatar?” 

Zuko shrugged. “I was nearby,” he hedged. “And I’ve been looking for the Avatar for a while now. When I saw the light, I knew it was a sign. Capturing him is my destiny.” 

That prompted the Avatar to turn, a crease between his dark brows. Katara frowned. 

“You mentioned that before,” Aang said, “back on your ship. You said you needed me to return home.” 

Zuko nodded, stiff, fisting a hand in Zaia’s soft fur to keep from touching his scar. 

“Zuko,” Katara began, something soft that Zuko didn’t like in her voice. Her eyes glimmered strangely. “How long have you been looking for the Avatar?” 

“Almost three years,” he replied, shoulders rising. He felt cornered all of a sudden, like he’d been backed into a trap he still couldn’t see. 

Katara’s face did something weird, and the Avatar’s eyes widened. Sokka stopped smearing greasepaint across his face. 

“But… the Avatar’s been back for, what, like, two weeks?” He said, looking at Katara and the Avatar for confirmation. 

Katara nodded. 

Suddenly, Zuko wanted the conversation to end. He had a keen awareness that there was something happening he didn’t understand and didn’t like. Like pai sho with Uncle, only combined with the sinking feeling he got when Azula outmaneuvered him at the dinner table, or finished another set of katas that had taken Zuko days in moments. 

“So?” Zuko asked gruffly. “Finding the Avatar is my destiny. My father knew that. He believed in me.”

Katara and Sokka exchanged a loaded glance. 

“I think there’s something here we’re missing,” Sokka said at last. “Why did your dad ask you to find the Avatar?” 

_ Ask.  _ Like Zuko had a choice. He looked away. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he growled. 

“Why not,” the Avatar asked. 

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” Zuko roared, slashing an arm through the air. Fire swirled from his hand.

Katara and Sokka both yelped, leaning away. Momo screeched and sprinted up Appa’s back to dive down the front of the Avatar’s yellow gi.

Zaia swatted Zuko's fingers and turned over, showing her soft stomach. Zuko huffed, a tongue of flame dancing across his lip, and scratched under her chin. 

“Alright, got it,” Sokka grumbled, smothering a few sparks. “Touchy subject.” 

“Look,” Zuko said, running a hand over his head, “I don’t want to be here and you don’t want me to be here, either.” 

“You can say that again,” Sokka quipped. 

Zuko ignored him. “Let’s- I don’t know. I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?” Katara echoed. She pursed her lips. “What kind of deal?” 

Zuko tugged on his phoenix tail, thinking. Azula was so much better at this than he was. “Um. Take me back to my ship and, uh, and I swear on my ho- on my life, I’ll let you go.” 

The three other passengers shared a look. 

“No, not good enough,” Sokka decided. “How about if we take you back to your ship, you stop chasing us.” 

Zuko stared flatly. “Not happening.” 

Sokka shrugged. “Worth a try. What about a week’s head start?”

“An hour,” Zuko countered. He hated to give them any time at all, but he needed to get back to his ship to even have a hope of bringing the Avatar back to the Fire Nation. 

Sokka shook his head. “Three days.” 

“Six hours.” 

“Two days?” 

“Eight hours.” 

“One full day. Final offer.” Sokka stuck out one gloved hand. There what white and red paint on the sleeve, and smudged across his face. 

Zuko paused, thinking. One full day. Twenty-four hours. Could he give them that? It would sting, but…

Zaia yawned, and he was reminded harshly of Zhao. Twenty-four hours was a massive head start for the commander, but the longer Zuko stayed on the bison, the larger the gap would get. And if Zhao saw him on the bison with the Avatar? 

He shuddered at the thought. 

“Deal. One day.” 

They shook. 


	6. Chapter 6

As they returned to the  _ Wani,  _ Zuko had an internal debate. On the one hand, what he was considering was treason. On the other… Katara was Azula’s age. As terrifying and competent as Azula was, she was still his baby sister, and Katara didn’t have half her skill. She wouldn’t beat Zhao in a fight. 

The Avatar was even younger than she was. Younger than Zuko had been when he was banished. 

The cold, sharp air was replaced with the phantom scent of burning flesh and the agonizing pain of a hand over his eye. Memories, both, but ones that would never fade. 

“You should know,” he said slowly. “I’m not the only one that knows you’re back. I won’t be the only one looking for you.” 

Sokka, Katara, and the Avatar looked alarmed. 

“Who else is there?” Katara asked. 

Zuko shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably a lot of people. But…” 

“But?” Katara prompted. 

_ Stand and fight, Prince Zuko. _

_ Even in exile, you behaved with honor and integrity. I am proud of you.  _

_ You’re so pathetic, Zuzu.  _

_ Oh, my little Zuko. I love you.  _

Azula wouldn’t. Father definitely wouldn’t. Uncle… probably would. Would his mother?

He didn’t know. 

He clenched his jaw. “Just be careful.” 

“Riiight,” Sokka said, bewildered. “We’ll do that.” 

Zuko couldn’t decipher his expression, so he ignored it, choosing instead to peer over the saddle and search for the dark speck of his ship on the ocean. It didn’t take long for him to spot the trail of thick, billowing smoke streaming out above the water. 

“There,” he called, leaning out and pointing. 

Zaia took the sleeve of his tunic in her teeth and pulled him away from the side. Her expression seemed to say;  _ I have wings, silly boy. You do not. _

Katara and Sokka both tensed. Sokka, his face clean aside from a few red and black stains, closed a hand around the hilt of his club, and Katara coaxed a thin stream of water from the canteen at her side. 

The bison dipped into a shallow dive, aiming for the broad deck of the  _ Wani. _ Below, the red and black dots of Zuko’s crew scrambled, grabbing their pikes and falling into a loose ring. Uncle, his grey hair a bright spot among their helmets, stood on the prow. As they grew closer, Zuko could just make out his expression; somewhat pale, the barest tightening around his eyes and mouth, but otherwise blank. His hands were folded in his sleeves. 

When he caught sight of Zuko, his shoulders relaxed, relief spilling across his face. 

Zuko leapt off the bison before its six legs fully met the deck, Zaia at his side. Zuko wasn’t fond of his ship, but standing on solid- well, solid-ish- ground, back among the familiar figures of his crew, was a relief. 

His uncle hurtled across the deck, grabbing Zuko by the shoulder and yanking him forward. Zuko yelped and tripped into his embrace.

“Oh, nephew,” Iroh breathed, “I was so worried.” 

Zuko stood stock still, not sure what to do. 

“Um, I- Uncle, I’m fine, I-” 

Iroh patted his shoulder, ignoring his stutters, and stepped back to face the Avatar and his friends. The Avatar was grinning, and there was a soft light in Katara’s eyes, but Sokka looked deeply uncomfortable.

“Thank you, young Avatar, for returning my nephew to me.” He pressed his hands into the traditional flame and bowed low. 

The Avatar turned pink. 

“Oh, um, you’re welcome, uh, Mister Iroh, sir,” he squeaked. 

Iroh chuckled and straightened. Zuko crossed his arms, glaring over Uncle’s shoulder. 

“We’ll, uh, just be going, then,” the Avatar mumbled. “Um. Bye!” He waved brightly, then snapped the bison’s reins. “Appa, yip yip!” 

Appa groaned and swung his tail, launching his massive bulk into the sky. Zuko’s gut clenched as he watched the bison’s silhouette retreat, and with it, Zuko’s redemption. Anger and humiliation soured his stomach. He’d been so close. 

“Are you all right, nephew?” Uncle asked softly, resting a gentle hand on Zuko’s shoulder. 

Zuko shook him off. “I’m fine,” he snarled. “Lieutenant Jee!” 

“Sir!” 

Zuko opened his mouth to command the crew to pursue. But… He’d given his word. He  _ owed  _ them. He growled. “Find us a port to resupply. Then we follow the Avatar.” 

Lieutenant Jee blinked, poleaxed. “Er. Yes, sir.”

For a moment, the crew didn’t move. Then Jee cleared his throat. “You hear ‘im, men. Get moving!” 

They scattered to their posts. 

Uncle stroked his chin. “That is unlike you, my nephew. Are you certain you are well?” 

Zuko sneered. Black smoke curled from his fists. “I’m fine. I’ll be in my quarters.” 

Still smoking, Zuko prowled across the deck and down the stairs. Zaia trotted after him, her tail erect. She seemed to be in remarkably good spirits. 

Iroh shook his head, laughing to himself, and went to fix a cup of tea. 

True to his word, Zuko gave the Avatar exactly one day’s head start. He could only hope that recovering from Zaia’s- from his wounds had taken Zhao longer. 

He knew that he was even more short-tempered than normal, snapping at his crew for the smallest slights, arguing with Leitenant Jee about their speed, pushing the small ship farther than it was meant to go, but it seemed like every day they were further behind, chasing rumors. 

Despair sucked at Zuko’s heels and haunted his nightmares. He saw Zhao, smug and smiling, and his father, raising a lit hand. Again and again, reaching for Zuko’s face, condemning his failure. His weakness. 

He didn’t sleep much. 

Rescuing Uncle from Earth Kingdom soldiers wasn’t fun, per se. Actually, it had been terrible. The fear that had gripped Zuko’s heart while Zaia soared overhead, searching desperately, had been ruthless and choking. But the fight had helped him vent some of his aggression. The long, brutal katas he put himself and his crew through every morning helped as well, even though Uncle insisted on going through the basics until Zuko wanted to rip his hair out. Zuko complained, but he remembered the duel with Zhao well, so he gritted his teeth and kept working. 

Now, at last, he had a lead. It took a fair amount of looming from Zuko and lots of bristling feathers and bared teeth from Zaia to get the villagers to give up the Avatar’s location, but they’d gotten it. Zuko had a real destination for the first time since Kyoshi, and he didn’t have time to waste. 

Zaia, however, didn’t seem to share his sense of urgency. As they left the Earth Kingdom town, she paused, scenting the cool night air. Around them, the forest hummed with life, flocks of tiny crickets chirping at the stars. An owl soared past, a silent, winged shadow on the breeze. 

Zaia made a distressed sound, and Zuko paused. In the gloom, Zaia’s golden eyes gleamed blue and green, her pupils blown wide to see into the shadows. Zuko held up a hand, signaling for the small group to stop.

They did, shifting uneasily. Zuko hadn’t told them why Zaia had returned to the ship covered in blood after his Agni Kai, and ever since, their wariness around the Golden Hawk-Cat had gone from subtle to blatant. 

With a flick of her tail, Zaia vanished into the underbrush. Zuko froze. 

After a tense moment, the cat poked her head out of the darkness and meowed at Zuko. Her ears twitched, impatient. 

Zuko gestured for his men to stay put, and, heart hammering, stepped off the path. 

The darkness was thick around him, almost tangible, the moon’s silvery light stifled by thick trees. Zuko’s footsteps were loud on the leaflitter. Trailing branches clawed at his cheeks and tugged on his phoenix tail. In the distance, the owl hooted. 

Zaia led him through the underbrush, dappled golden coat flickering like a mirage in and out of the night. Her wide, soft paws were silent. Among the shadowed forest, she was more wraith than creature. 

Then, all at once, the thick trees stopped dead. The crunch of leaflitter vanished, replaced by muffled silence. Zuko pushed his way past the last trunk and into a barren, black slash. Ash plumed around his falling boots, and the skeletal remains of charred trees banded the horizon. 

“Oh,” Zuko breathed. Cold horror knotted his throat. 

Zaia let out a thin, mournful wail, wings and tail slumping. She lowered her nose to sniff the sooty ground and sneezed. 

“What happened here?” Zuko wondered, stepping out from the dense treeline and into the cold, barren ruin. A velvet-soft night breeze tickled his cheeks. Silver light pooled in great, glowing patches against the ash, glimmering on the particles kicked up by Zuko’s feet. 

Zaia mewled. Rustling her wings, she streaked across the dark earth, weaving around forlorn trunks and leaping across shallow hollows. 

Zuko hurried after her, jogging to keep pace. 

Zaia skidded to a stop in front of a tall wooden totem. Zuko halted a few steps behind, tipping his head back to study the wood. 

It was some kind of bear, sitting back on its haunches. Moonlight carved deep shadows into its cracked, dark face. Soot and ash streaked its sides. It looked tragic and lonesome, standing tall among the destruction, and Zuko felt a twinge of pity. 

Zaia keened, leaning forward to touch her nose to the statue. 

“It’s the spirit of the forest,” Zuko realized. “The buildings in the village…” 

Zaia flicked her tail, laying on her stomach among the silver-grey ash. Quietly, Zuko bowed to the statue, sending out a wordless prayer.

As he straightened, his eyes caught on a stray gleaming acorn. 

The Fire Nation didn’t have forests like this one. The island chain was lush and tropical, always slightly wet. Oak trees didn’t feature. Still, Zuko knew what the seed represented. 

He knelt, picked up the acorn, and buried it a few feet from the base of the statue.

The walk back to rejoin Zuko’s crew was silent and somber. 

The crew was irritable as Zuko pushed them through the night, desperate to regain the ground he’d lost after the Avatar’s head start. Uncle contained his displeasure a bit better, but when the sun rose and Zuko, peering through the ship’s telescope, ordered the ship to follow Appa into the Fire Nation, his patience snapped. 

“Sailing into Fire Nation waters? Of all the foolish things you’ve done in your sixteen years, Prince Zuko, this is the most foolish!” 

Zaia, oddly, didn’t chip in. She sat at Zuko’s ankle, golden gaze searching for the distant, pale speck of the Avatar’s bison. She’d been quiet since they’d set a course for Crescent Island. 

“I have no choice, Uncle,” Zuko replied, not removing his eye from the telescope. 

“Have you completely forgotten that the Fire Lord banished you? What if you’re caught?” 

Zaia mewled, ears flattening against her skull, tail lashing. Pain and fury blossomed in Zuko’s chest. He hadn’t forgotten. He could never forget. He wheeled around. 

“I’m chasing the Avatar,” he protested. “My father will understand why I’m returning home.” 

Home, the notion silken and sweet. The Fire Nation. 

_ You will learn respect- _

“You give him too much credit. My brother is not the understanding type.” 

_ Stand and fight, Prince Zuko.  _

Zuko thinned his lips and returned to the telescope. His Uncle was wrong. Once Zuko had the Avatar, his father would welcome him home, regardless of this trespass. It was his father that tasked him with finding the Avatar to begin with, after all. He was only following the Fire Lord’s mandate. 

_ I don’t get it, Zuko.  _

He found the Avatar’s bison. 

“Helmsmen,” he shouted, “full steam ahead!” 

Zaia sighed and crept over to Uncle Iroh’s side, sprawling across his boots. 

Zuko paced the deck, thinking hard. Uncle, Zaia napping on his shoes, watched. He needed to shoot them down. He needed the Avatar. 

There was a catapult below deck. They had pitch. He could fire at the bison. 

_ Appa, yip yip! _

He could. 

_ Oh, um. You’re welcome, Mister Iroh, sir.  _

The bison’s fur had been long and coarse, over a thick, soft undercoat almost as downy as Zaia’s. He’d been warm and solid, groaning in complaint. Zuko remembered Azula hurling blue fire at the turtle ducks, and the sick feeling it had sown in Zuko’s chest.

The bison’s thick fur would burn, unlike Zaia’s golden pelt. 

Zuko looked at Zaia and remembered the moment she’d lunged between him and Zhao, the heart-stopping second when he’d been terrified that Zhao would kill her. His gut twisted. 

“Faster!” He roared. “We intercept them when they land!” 

Uncle Iroh’s brow pinched. “You are not going to shoot them down?”

“Er.” Zuko swallowed. “No. The Avatar is a formidable waterbender. Or have you forgotten what happened last time? No, it’s better we catch him on land, where he can’t escape so easily,” Zuko lied. 

His turned back to watch the bison, and his eyes fell on a line of distant ship. Dread trickled down his spine. 

“Blockade,” he breathed. 

Uncle Iroh rubbed his chin. “Technically, you are still in Earth Kingdom waters. Turn back now and they cannot arrest you.” 

Zuko huffed. 

The bison jetted forward, and Zuko’s heart skipped a beat.  _ No, come on. Come on, go back.  _ The bison didn’t, plowing ahead. 

“He’s not turning around!” 

“Please, Prince Zuko,” Uncle Iroh begged, desperation edging into his voice. “If the Fire Nation Captures you, there’s nothing I can do! Do not follow the Avatar.” 

Zuko closed his eyes. Two choices. Go on, or go back. If he went forward, and he was caught, he might be executed. If he turned around, and the Avatar was caught, he could never go home. 

It wasn’t much of a choice. 

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” he said, and he meant it. Then he straightened. “Run the blockade!” 

Uncle Iroh looked down at Zaia, despair in his gaze. Zaia slumped, resting her chin on his toes. 

They ran the blockade. So did the Avatar. 

Zuko and Zaia split off to follow the Avatar, while Uncle Iroh led Zhao on a merry chase northwards. 

It wasn’t difficult to follow the Avatar and his friends through Roku’s temple. The explosion they’d set off had echoed through the metal halls, shaking the whole building. Zuko, who knew all the tricks of this kind of Fire Nation architecture (he’d grown up in a palace, after all. He knew secret passages.), caught up fast. 

“Aang, now’s your chance!” Katara shouted, one of the Fire Sages pinned in her grip. 

Zuko stepped out from behind a pillar, Zaia at his side, the Avatar squirming against his hold. 

Katara gasped, her face falling. The Fire Sages took advantage of their distraction, twisting free and pinning Sokka, Katara, and the traitor sage. 

“Close the doors,” Zuko barked. “Quickly!”

It was warm in the temple, the setting sun casting an orange glow across the dragon pillars. Zuko’s footsteps and the Avatar’s small grunts of effort echoed. Metal sang as the Fire Sages bound Sokka and Katara to a pillar. 

Zuko wondered what would happen to them, then, wincing, dismissed the thought. They were enemies of the Fire Nation. Thus, they would be imprisoned.  _ Or killed.  _

Zuko shook his head and shoved the Avatar forwards. He didn’t have time to think about them. He had to get the Avatar and get back to Uncle, or else it would be him whose head was on the chopping block. 

But the Avatar was quick. He ducked, lashing out with a blast of frigid air. Zuko went flying, tumbling down the stairs with a painful clatter. The Avatar turned and ran. Zaia shrieked and lunged after him. 

Zuko groaned, sitting up. His limbs and head ached from hitting the ground, but he shoved himself to his feet anyway. He needed the Avatar. 

Overhead, out of sight, Katara shouted “Go!” 

Zuko hurtled back up the stairs, but he was too late. The Avatar jumped through the closing doors, Zaia on his heels. Her tail vanished between the spikes just in time, and both she and the Avatar disappeared. 

Defeat threatened to choke Zuko. He shook it off. It wasn’t over yet. 

_ Never give up without a fight.  _

Before he could take a step, bright, searing light burst out from the metal doors. It washed the entire chamber is blazing white, flattening the shadows and leeching the reds and gold in the temple of their rich hue. Zuko winced, covering his eyes. A sliver of fear festered in his chest. 

He scrambled across the room, joining the Fire Sages. “Get it open,” he barked. 

If they thought anything of their banished Prince giving them orders, they didn't say anything. They fell into line, blasting the doors. They remained closed, fire billowing uselessly across the metal. 

“Why isn’t it working? It’s sealed shut,” Zuko shouted, furious. He was so close. So maddeningly close. He was on Fire Nation soil, he was home, and if could just catch the Avatar he would never have to leave again. And Zaia was in there. 

He wasn’t worried about her safety, the Avatar seemed fond of her, but he wanted her back. The last time they’d been separated by a locked door, it hadn’t gone well for Zuko. His scar tingled. Sweat rolled down his back.

“It must have been the light,” the senior Sage replied. “Avatar Roku doesn’t want us inside.” 

Zuko snarled. Roku was long dead, and an enemy of the Fire Nation besides. 

Zuko whirled and stalked towards the traitor sage, bound and on his knees. 

“Why did you help the Avatar?” He demanded. 

The Sage met his eyes defiantly. “Because it was once the Sages’ duty. It is still our duty.”

Slow, mocking claps echoed through the room. Zuko went rigid, turning slowly on his heel.

Zhao. Zhao, looking insufferably smug, flanked by a platoon of masked soldiers. His leg was still bound in cloth bandages under his armor, and he leaned on a crutch, but he was smirking. 

_ Oh no. _

Zuko swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat. His hands trembled. 

“What a moving and heartfelt performance. I’m certain the Fire Lord will understand-” 

_ My brother is not the understanding type.  _ Zuko bit back a wince. His scar prickled. 

“-why you betrayed him.” 

“Commander Zhao,” the senior Sage greeted.

Zhao didn’t acknowledge him. “And Prince Zuko. It was a noble effort,” he said, tone dripping condescension, “but your little smokescreen didn’t work. Two traitors in one day.” 

From the other side of the pillar, Sokka made a small noise of confusion. Zuko clenched his jaw. He wanted to scream. He wasn’t a traitor. He’d never been a traitor. He was a loyal son. 

“The Fire Lord will be pleased.” 

Zhao’s crutch tapped as he approached. 

Two of his soldiers grabbed Zuko before he could dodge. He grunted. His shoulders twinged as the soldiers twisted his arms behind his back. 

“You’re too late, Zhao,” Zuko spat. “The Avatar is inside and the doors are sealed.” 

“No matter,” Zhao replied, arrogant and unbothered. “Sooner or later, he has to come out.” 

Zuko’s stomach dropped. His knees wavered beneath him. Dark despair rose behind his eyes. It was over. He’d lost. He’d lost. 

_ Never give up without a fight.  _

The soldiers dragged him, thrashing, to another pillar across from Sokka and Katara, where they tied him down. Zuko kicked and snarled as they tied him up, forcing them to leave slack on the chains. He refused to lie down and let Zhao win. 

“When those doors open,” Zhao ordered, “unleash all your Fire Power.” 

“How’s Aang going to make it out of this?” Katara breathed, blue eyes wide and afraid. 

“How are we going to make it out of this?” Sokka countered. He wriggled against the chain, but it didn’t move. 

Zuko huffed a breathless laugh, struggling against his bindings. He should have listened to Uncle. He wished Zaia was here. 

Sokka and Katara exchanged a look. 

“Zuko?” Katara asked cautiously. 

Zuko ignored her, a fierce scowl on his face. 

“What did Zhao mean?” She asked quietly. “He said two traitors, and he wasn’t talking about us.” 

Zuko set his jaw. Beside Katara, the Fire Sage shifted. 

“You don’t know?” He murmured. 

“Know what?” Sokka asked. 

Zuko lifted his chin, glaring at them. He had shamed himself enough. He wasn’t going to sink so low as to let some traitor Fire Sage look down on him. He would speak for himself. 

“I was banished, okay?” He snapped. 

Sokka and Katara both blinked. 

“Banished?” Katara echoed. 

Zuko exhaled. Impotent rage bubbled in his chest. Tiny flickers of fire danced on his breath. His heart beat fast, and there was a high, ringing sound in his ears. He couldn’t tell if it was his imagination. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. 

“On pain of death,” Zuko confirmed bitterly. “I shouldn’t be here.” 

Katara paled, and Sokka’s mouth dropped. 

“On- on pain of death?” Katara repeated tremulously. 

Zuko didn’t reply. He returned his attention to the chains. 

“But- but you’re the Prince!” Sokka protested. “I mean, your father’s the Fire Lord, right? Couldn’t he, I don’t know, pardon you?” 

Zuko laughed. He couldn’t help it. The statement wasn’t funny, but Zuko’s shoulders shook. 

“My father is the one who banished me, Sokka,” he replied. His voice sounded funny to his own ears. Part of him considered crying, but he wouldn’t give Zhao the satisfaction. 

Sokka gaped. 

“That’s why you want Aang,” Katara realized. 

Zuko inclined his head. “If I capture the Avatar and return him to my father, my honor will be restored, and I can go home.” 

Before Sokka or Katara could reply, brilliant white-blue light surged through the room. 

Zuko winced, turning away. The door swung open with a metallic whine. 

“Ready?” Zhao called. 

“No, Aang!” Katara screamed. Sokka grunted and squirmed. 

“Aim!”

_ No, no, no _ , Zuko thought, yanking at the chain holding him down. It wriggled. A few more seconds and he could break it. Hope flared. If Zhao killed Aa- the Avatar, then that was it. He would be reincarnated, lost to the Fire Nation. But Zuko’s chain was moving. He might, just maybe, be able to free himself. 

“Fire!” 

Burning orange and yellow flams surged forwards, washing the room in dry, blistering heat. What appeared from the flames, however, was not the small, cheerful Airbender that Zuko had expected. 

“Avatar Roku,” the Sage whispered, awe on his face. 

Roku was tall and imposing, even washed in spectral blue light. His eyes blazed, the same brilliant white-blue that Aang’s had, after falling into the southern waters. Something about him was familiar, too, though Zuko couldn’t place it. 

Roku sent forth a surge of bright flames, knocking Zhao’s soldiers from their feet and incinerating the chains around Sokka, Katara, and the Sage. Zaia hurtled out from beside him, fur on end, and launched herself at Zuko. 

With an almighty wrench, Zuko snapped the chain that had been holding him. He and Zaia set off at a dead sprint. 

Safe back on the small boat, headed back to Uncle while the Avatar soared away overhead, Zuko collapsed into a heap. His scar burned. 

Zaia crawled into his lap. Zuko pressed his face into her soft golden fur. 

“I just want to go home,” he breathed.

Zaia purred sympathetically. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: What happened in Roku's chamber?


	7. Roku

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter, detailing what, exactly, happened in the Spirit World.

“Go!” Katara shouted, looking towards the closing doors. 

Aang’s heart twisted. He didn’t want to leave her and Sokka trapped alone with the Fire Sages, but he didn’t have time to free her. He pivoted, sprinting past the pillar and diving towards the entrance. The dark gap between them grew ever slimmer, the metal groaning, as if in protest. Aang’s heart pounded. 

One of the Fire Sages aimed a gout of flame at him, but Aang leapt up, air swirling around him, carrying him high over the blast of heat. He sprang off of the stunned Sage’s face with one hand, then bounced off the head of another, and hurled himself into the sanctum in the nick of time. The doors shut behind his pointed toes with a clang, cutting him off from the others. 

He landed in a crouch, the glossy metal floor cold under his knee. A statue of Avatar Roku stood before him, tall and stately, haloed by a burst of flame wrought from gold. The statue was tall, Roku’s aged face serene, blank eyes staring. Light, reflected from the crystal in the wall above Aang, glowed against his chest, like it was cupped in his folded hands. Aang felt very small and very young, staring up at his predecessor. 

His hands shook as he stood, looking between the crystal and the statue. 

Zaia meowed loudly, and Aang jumped several feet into the air with a cry of surprise. 

The cat gave him an unimpressed look, sitting on the metal and laying her twitching tail over her large paws. The reddish light of the chamber turned her golden fur the color of old blood. 

“Zaia? How did you get in here?” 

Zaia chirped at him and began licking her chest. Deep shadows pooled around her. The dim warmth of the Fire Nation shrine seemed to welcome her like an old friend. 

Aang looked back and forth, from Zaia to the statue. Cautiously, he edged away from the cat, approaching Roku. Zaia seemed unperturbed. His footsteps echoed on the elaborately painted floor. 

“I don’t get it,” he murmured. He glanced at Zaia, who was ignoring him completely, smoothing her ruffled feathers back into place. Despite her unbothered facade, her large ears swiveled this way and that, listening hard to something Aang couldn’t hear. He looked at the massive ruby above the doors. Sunlight beamed through it, bathing Roku’s statue in rosy light. 

“The light hits the statue, and I talk to Roku. Right?” 

Zaia chuffed and dipped her head. Aang, momentarily distracted, beamed. 

“You  _ can  _ understand me!” 

Zaia made a coughing noise that sounded like laughter, her whiskers twitching. Aang stilled, brow furrowing. 

“You’re really not a normal cat, are you?” 

In the corner of Aang’s eye, the statue of Avatar Roku began to glow. Thick white smoke swirled up around him, obscuring the shrine from view. Aang stiffened, heart jumping. Sweat slicked his palms. 

When the smoke cleared, Aang was somewhere else entirely. The world was rendered in pastels, hazy and immaterial. Distant mountain peaks stod against a dusky pink sky, streaked with darker clouds, and standing, proud and calm, before Aang, was the unmistakable figure of Avatar Roku.

Zaia sat at his heels, still cleaning her feathers. 

Avatar Roku looked almost identical to the statue in the throne room, if slightly smaller. In flesh and blood- or near enough- he seemed far less austere. His weathered face showed a lifetime of laughter, and his amber-gold eyes were bright. His red robes were faded in the spirit world, but his expression was kind, and when he spoke, his voice was warm and teasing. 

“It is good to see you, Aang. What took you so long?”

Relief blossomed in Aang’s chest. He closed his gaping mouth, pressed his hands into the traditional flame, and bowed. 

“And Zaia,” Avatar Roku continued, looking down at the cat. His eyes twinkled. “Hello.”

The cat looked up at him, her eyes narrowing fondly. A low purr sparked in her chest. “Roku,” she replied. Her mouth didn’t move, but her voice came through clearly. It was rough and low, sweet as honey and cream, laced with fondness. 

“You are a spirit,” Aang breathed. 

Zaia did laugh at him this time, a full, throaty sound, affectionate and free of malice. “I am,” she agreed. “But you didn’t come to see me. Speak with your mentor, Aang. He has much to tell you.” 

The amusement faded from Roku’s face. Grief and regret settled into his features. The solemnity banned any youthful brightness from his face, making him look ancient and careworn. 

“I do.” 

“Is it about that vision?” Aang demanded. “The one with the comet?” 

Roku sighed heavily. Zaia’s lips peeled back, showing her teeth. Her tail lashed. 

“Yes,” Roku said, sounding like he wished it was anything but. 

“What does it mean?” 

The world around them went dark, stars flaring to life in a nighttime sky. “One hundred years ago,” Roku began, his gravely voice grave. Zaia’s ears flattened, and she leaned into Roku’s side. “Fire Lord Sozin used that comet to begin the war.” 

Beside Roku, a jet of pink streaked across the night, blazing over the horizon. It was beautiful, but watching it, Aang felt dread rise in his throat. 

“He and his Fire Bendending army harnessed its incredible power, and dealt a deadly first strike against the other nations.” 

The comet reached the horizon and faded. Dusk settled back over the mountains. 

“So the comet made them stronger?” Aang asked.

“Yes,” Roku confirmed. “Stronger than you could even imagine.” Threads of old, well-worn anger and hurt tightened his words. His amber eyes flashed. 

_ Because Avatar Roku betrayed Fire Lord Sozin!  _ Aang’s memory supplied. To betray someone, they had to trust you. The corners of Aang’s mouth turned down. 

Zaia purred hard, leaning further into Roku’s side. 

“But that happened a hundred years ago,” Aang protested. “What does the comet have to do with the war now?” 

“Listen carefully.” 

Roku and Zaia faded from view, and the silhouette of a man wreathed in fire appeared before Aang. He took a half-step back on instinct. The phantom fire had no warmth, but it cast flickering orange light across the mountain.  _ Ozai. _

Roku kept speaking. “Sozin’s Comet will return by the end of the summer, and Fire Lord Ozai will use its power to finish the war, once and for all.” 

The man in the image heaved, then threw his head back, roaring. A burst of orange and yellow flame flowed from his mouth, flashing across the horizon. Aang flinched. 

The image vanished, and Roku and Zaia reappeared. Zaia was glaring at the spot where Ozia had been, just behind her, her long claws flexing in the dirt. 

Aang swallowed, mouth dry.  _ That was Zuko’s dad _ , he realized numbly. 

“If he succeeds, even the Avatar will be unable to restore balance to the world.” Roku shifted forward, staring intently into Aang’s eyes. “Aang,” he said, voice low and intense, impressing the severity of the situation onto his audience. Aang felt his stomach turn. “You must defeat the Fire Lord, before the comet arrives.” 

Aang’s heart skipped a beat. “But I haven’t even started to learn waterbending!” he cried, panicked. “Not to mention earth and fire.” 

Fear burned in his gut. He was only twelve. He was twelve, and Ozai was the  _ Fire Lord _ . He was a master, and he had an army, and there was no way Aang could beat him. 

He struggled to even his breathing, trying to listen past the rushing in his ears. 

“Mastering the elements takes years of discipline and practice, but if the world is to survive, you must do it by summer’s end.” 

Aang’s eyes went wide. He swallowed hard, trembling. 

Zaia let out a high pitched meow and abandoned her place by Roku’s side, laughing herself into Aang’s arms. He caught her on reflex, too stunned and frightened to really react. He couldn’t feel his fingers. 

Zaia pressed her cheek to his, whole body vibrating with the force of her purr. 

“You can do it, Aang,” she insisted. “You won’t be alone. You’ll have your friends to help you.” 

Aang tightened his grip, trying not to cry. 

“I- I don’t- I didn’t even want to be the Avatar,” he said miserably, burying his face in her flank. 

“I know,” Zaia murmured. “I’m sorry. It’s not fair.” 

“What if I can’t master all of the elements in time? What if I fail?” 

“You won’t,” Zaia said.

“I know you can do it, Aang” Roku agreed. 

Aang lifted his head, blinking away a film of tears. Roku’s face softened into a gentle smile. 

“You have done it before,” he said knowingly. Aang managed a weak smile. Roku paused and looked up. “The solstice is ending. We must go our separate ways, for now.” 

“But I won’t be able to come back to the temple,” Aang protested. 

Zaia snuggled deeper into his arms, pressing her warmth into his chest like she could banish his fear if she tried hard enough. 

“What if I have questions? How will I talk to you?” 

“I am a part of you. When you need to talk to me again, you will find a way.” His eyes lowered to Zaia, where she was attempting to mold herself to Aang’s front. “And you will have help.” 

“But Zaia’s Zuko’s guide,” Aand said, even as he stroked a hand down her sleek wing. 

“Zuko’s destiny is intertwined with yours,” Zaia said. “If you need help, I won’t be far.” 

Aang frowned. “I really don’t know if that’s reassuring.” 

Zaia laughed, and across the clearing, Roku chuckled. 

“My great-grandson can be intense,” he said, amused, “but I have faith in him.” 

“Your  _ what? _ ” Aang cried, nearly dropping Zaia. 

Roku ignored him, closing his eyes. “A great danger awaits you at the temple. I can help you face the threat, but only if you are ready.” 

Aang shook his head, trying to martial his thoughts. He could ruminate on that revelation later. Right now, Sokka and Katara were in danger. 

He bowed his head. 

“I’m ready.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, holy sh*t someone made fanart!!!! It's linked to this fic in the 'inspired by' section. Check it out, it's GORGEOUS.


	8. Never trust a Pirate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am... so sorry.  
> Also this chapter has not been edited at all. Enjoy.

Zuko could tell that Uncle was relieved beyond words when he dragged himself back onto the _Wani._ Wordless, dark amber eyes glimmering, Iroh had pulled him into a tight hug. Zuko had been too exhausted and hollow-feeling to do anything more than slump forward in his arms, but Uncle didn’t seem to mind. 

He shepherded Zuko back to his rooms, brought him his dinner, and left him to lick his wounds in peace. 

The next morning, Zuko woke up in a sour mood. Zaia trailed patiently at his heels as he snapped and snarled at his crew, always just out of reach, big golden eyes fixed on the back of his head.

This continued for several days, Zuko throwing himself into his training and stalking around the ship in a fowl temper, Zaia a silent pillar of disapproval at his back. Uncle pretended nothing had happened, as patient and jovial as ever, despite Zuko’s increasing frustration, hosting music nights and playing pai sho with the crew, until he lost his white lotus tile.

This seemed to amuse Zaia to no end. Her tail curled, bright eyes dancing with something that resembled suppressed feline laughter. Part of Zuko suspected that Zaia had been the one to steal the tile in the first place. It seemed like the sort of thing she would do, to cause a little mischief. But Zaia, despite her tendency to bat pai sho tiles across the deck for fun, would never steal from Uncle. She adored the old man too much.

The port was rough looking. Seedy, the smell of drying fish and filth mingling with smoke and sweat. Seabird squalled and shrieked overhead, and gentle waves slapped at the pier. The sky was beginning to fade into a warm, burnt orange by the time Uncle dragged him onto the pirate ship.

The cabin was small and warm, with a curved wooden ceiling and creaking floors that rocked on the gentle swells. The whole room smelled of salt, incense, and resin, and strange, eclectic bits of merchandise lined the walls. 

Zuko stood sullenly at Uncle’s shoulder as he admired a ruby-encrusted monkey statue, ignoring his surroundings while Zaia grumbled unhappily at his heels, until he heard the two men in the corner mention a Water Tribe girl and a small bald monk.

_Katara and Aa- the Avatar._

Zaia, who had been tense since catching sight of the ship, let out a small hiss, her fur bristling. Zuko rounded on the pirates. 

“This monk, did he have an arrow on his head?”

Both pirates glanced back at him, shrewd eyes taking in his appearance. Zuko knew what they saw; youth, inexperience, and scars, but also fire nation armor and a well fed companion. An easy mark, gullible, with deep pockets. Then their eyes landed on Zaia and brightened with interest.

“Say,” said the mate, voice high and weasely, “that’s quite a creature you’ve got there.” 

Zaia bristled, lips curling back from her teeth. Zuko edged in front of her. 

“She’s not for sale,” he snapped. 

“No? Pity. Golden cat hawks are a rare find these days, ‘specially breeding females.” 

Zaia made an enraged noise and Zuko crossed his arms. 

“The monk?”

The pirates lifted their greedy gazes from Zaia. 

“Yeah,” the Captain said, voice gruff and gravely, “just so happens that ‘e did.” 

Zuko smiled, sharp-edged and satisfied. “Well it ‘just so happens’ that I’m looking for someone matching that description.”

Interest kindled in the pirates' gazes. Zuko felt Uncle amble up behind him, laying a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko couldn’t see his face, but he felt the warning in his Uncle’s grasp. _Careful_.

“Oh?” The Captain leaned forward, resting a large forearm on the wooden table. The parrot-lizard on his shoulder ruffled its feathers and shrieked. Zaia hissed back. 

Zuko narrowed his eyes, studying the small room full of colorful, idiosyncratic wares. They’d mentioned Katara before Aang, which meant they didn’t know just how valuable the monk might be. Good, it was better they didn’t. But that begged the question: why hunt down a pair of children that had little to no inherent value? The pirates didn’t strike Zuko as human traffickers; their ship was too small and their sales pitch too gaudy, not afraid of drawing attention to their presence. Which meant-

“-They stole something from you, right?” Zuko guessed, stalking closer to the table and raising his good brow. 

The mate looked taken-aback, but the Captain’s face was blank. His parrot shifted, chittering. 

“That right,” the Captain rumbled. 

“Then I think we can help each other.”

The Captain sent Zaia a speculative look. Zuko’s jaw twitched. A jerk of the Captain’s chin dismissed his mate, who slunk from the room with a scowl, sending Zuko and his Uncle a poisonous glare as he went. 

“How so?” The Captain asked. His poker face was excellent, but Zuko could see the greed flickering in his gaze. 

Zuko lifted his chin, stubborn. “You want your property back, I want the- girl.” He didn’t like the idea of leaving Katara and her brother to the tender mercies of pirates, and it was better they think it was the girl he was interested in, anyway. “We could pool our resources, come to a mutually beneficial arrangement.” 

The Captain laughed. “How could you help me? No offense, kid, but-” 

Zuko bit back a snarl. “I can find them. You want to hunt them down, I can help you. In return, you help me capture them. You take back what was yours, as well as any other trinkets you’d like, and I take the Water Bender and her companions.” 

The Captain raised his eyebrows, leaning back. “Water Bender, eh? Makes sense.” He thought for a moment, gaze flicking to Zaia and then back up to Zuko. “Throw in that cat, and you’ve got a deal.” 

Zuko and Zaia both bristled. 

“I told you, she’s not for sale.”

The Captain frowned. “That’s a pity. She could be worth a lot, you know.” The parrot on his shoulder shrieked and leapt into the air, vanishing out the door in a flurry of green feathers. Zaia pressed closer to Zuko’s leg. He could feel the low vibration of her throat growl through his boot. 

“I’m willing to pay,” Zuko said. “One hundred gold pieces.” 

The Captain threw his head back and guffawed. “What a generous offer. I’m afraid we’ll have to refuse.” 

Zuko heard several sets of footsteps on the deck and tensed. 

“Zuko,” Uncle murmured. Zaia’s growl grew louder, filling the space with its threatening rumble. Zuko shifted his stance, ready to move. 

The Captain sauntered out from behind the table, thumb hooked through his belt, grin crooked. “I’m afraid there’s not much you could offer me more valuable than that creature there.”

Zaia snarled, tail lashing. 

“Like I said, cat hawks are rare. Hard to catch, harder to find. Not many left since the western temples burned. There are collectors out there that would pay a fortune to get their hands on a specimen like that.” 

Zuko shifted, prepared to attack. “I said she’s not for sale.” 

“Oh, I’m not offering.” The Captain jerked his head and Zuko heard three small _thwip_ s from the entrance. A sharp sting, like the bite of an ant-fly, flared in his neck. 

Zuko’s hand flew up to clutch at the source. His fingers met the fluffy end of a small blow dart.

The world went grey and hazy, then vanished. 

It was well into dusk by the time Zuko woke. His head pounded and his mouth tasted like a swarm of scorpion-frogs had been using it as a nest. The evening air was cool against his sweaty cheek. Someone was shaking his shoulder. 

“-uko. Prince Zuko, you must wake up.”

Zuko groaned and dragged his leaden eyelids open. His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat, and his eyes felt like overripe grapes in his skull. 

Uncle Iroh’s concerned face stared down at him, grey hair silhouetted by a darkening sky. 

“Uncle?” Zuko mumbled, confused. His mind felt slow and muddled. The pier was uncomfortable under his back, and his armor dug painfully into his skin. 

Then

_Pirates. Water tribe. Monk._

“Zaia!”

Zuko lurched to his feet. Or, rather, tried to. The world careened around him and he staggered, stomach heaving. Uncle, who looked more clear-eyed than Zuko, caught his elbow. Deep lines of concern aged his face, carved around his mouth and between his brows. His expression was grave. 

Zuko cast around, searching the pier. Zaia was nowhere to be seen.

Zuko’s heart plummeted, panic closing his throat. He wheeled around, searching the darkening docks to no avail. 

“They took Zaia,” he snarled, furious. Sparks leapt from his fingers, bright orange against the fading grey evening. Fury burrowed beneath his skin. “They _stole_ Zaia.” 

_How dare they!_

“Nephew-” 

“We’re going after them,” Zuko declared. “Come on.” 

He began to march back to the _Wani,_ not waiting for his uncle’s response, weaving drunkenly on unsteady feet. Dizziness threatened to waylay him, but he forged on with single-minded determination. 

_They took Zaia_.

The empty space at his side ached. 

His head reeled, but he couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t wait or be patient. 

_They took_ **_Zaia_ ** **.**

Zuko didn’t think he’d ever been so angry; at himself, at the pirates, at uncle, at the world and the spirits and everything under the sun. Hadn’t he lost enough? 

For a moment, he felt ten years old again, waking up to a ragged, gaping hole in his life.

Uncle hurried after him, for once devoid of platitudes or advice. He was fond of Zaia too, odd regard for her aside. 

(Zuko, cuttingly intelligent and painfully oblivious in turns, had no way of understanding his uncle’s turmoil. Iroh knew the truth of Zaia, and the thought of the fiery Spirit in the hands of pirates made his stomach turn, quite aside from his own fondness for the cat and concern for his beloved nephew.)

Despite the lingering after-effects of the sedative, Iroh and Zuko made good time to the _Wani_. It didn’t take long for the crew to notice the absence of the prince’s golden shadow. Several stopped and stared at the spot by his ankle, before searching the sky, bewildered. 

Zuko ignored them all. 

“Lieutenant Jee,” he roared. 

The Lieutenant hastened to attention. “Sir?” His shadowed gaze flickered from Zuko’s empty shoulders to Iroh’s grave face and back.

“Follow the river inland, as fast as you can.”

Jee hesitated. “Sir, the ship can’t go downriver. It’s too shallow, we’ll run aground.” 

Zuko snarled, a plume of flames wreathing his face. “Then release the skiff. Now!” 

Several crew members scrambled to do so, muttering amongst themselves. 

“I want our best fighters armed and assembled immediately,” Zuko barked. He stalked towards the skiff, glaring down the twilit river. “We’ve got some pirates to catch.” 

The skiff was loaded and released in record time, Zuko standing at the helm, smoking with anger. Uncle hovered nearby, worry plain on his face. Zuko ignored him. Beneath his feet, the engine strained as the crew pushed the small skiff to its limits. The smell of smoke and sound of complaining metal filled the air. Zuko ignored that, too, ignored the cautioning advice of his crew, the concerned looks they kept exchanging, the way they watched the deck warily, as if expecting the engine to explode beneath their feet. 

It took them less than an hour to find the pirates’ ship docked by the water’s edge. Clearly, they hadn’t anticipated Zuko and Iroh’s elevated body temperature burning off the sedative so fast. 

Zuko launched himself from the prow of the skiff and onto the pirate ship before the skiff had come to a full stop, a burst of fire sending him high into the air. He caught the edge of the ship with both hands, wincing as the wooden edge cut into his fingers, and hauled himself over the edge. He rolled onto the deck and sprang to his feet with a clatter of armor, crouched low, ready to dispose of any resistance left on the ship. As soon as his feet touched the deck, a high, keening wail split the air, before petering out. 

_Zaia_. 

His feet were moving before he had time to think about it, ghosting low and silent over the wooden deck. It shifted ever so slightly on the sand, but Zuko was sure-footed. He’d spent his youth sneaking through the palace, avoiding Azula and the staff, sneaking snacks from the kitchens or playing hide-and-seek with Lu Ten. His armor made more noise than he would have liked, metal plates sliding and clanking as he ran for the hatch below deck, but the faint sounds were lost among the whisper of water and clattering tree branches. Zaia’s caterwauling resumed. 

The hatch leading below deck was locked, but a well-placed kick, trailing blazing fire, shattered the wood. The _crack_ shattered the still night, splinters showering the small, torch-lit corridor. Zuko winced at the noise. Fresh urgency sang in his veins. 

He jumped down into the hallway, ignoring the ladder. A broad pirate with a ragged tuft of bluish hair rounded the corner. Zuko pounced on him, kicking him hard in the stomach. He flew backwards, head slamming into the wall with a loud crack, and slumped to the ground, groaning. A cutlass fell from his slack fingers. 

Zuko darted past him, scooping up his sword as he went. The balance wasn’t as good as his dual dao, cheaply made, but Zuko didn’t care. He’d always been better with swords than bending, to his father’s eternal shame. But his father wasn’t there to judge him, and Zuko was, for the moment, beyond caring. 

He swerved around another corner, following Zaia’s screeching wails. Down and down he went, until at last he reached the entrance to the cargo hold. A pair of pirates flanked the door. They sprang to their feet when Zuko appeared, startled. Their cards fluttered down to rest on the barrel between them. They each drew a weapon, one a whip, another a pair of swords. Zuko snarled low in his throat. The pirate’s swords gleamed in the flickering torchlight. 

Zuko flung out a fist. A brilliant ball of orange flame raced down the hall, superheating the air, making the wall-hangings dance. Both pirates flung themselves down. The smell of burning hair filled the narrow hall. Zuko didn’t wait for them to recover. 

He hurtled forwards, blowing past them, through the door and into the cargo hold. Sweat rolled down his temple. 

The cargo hold was large, filled with unnamed barrels and various trinkets and a handful of large, empty cages. A piercing shriek came from deeper within, hidden in the shadows. Zuko held up a hand, fistful of flames casting dark, wavering shadows on the walls. His heart beat fast. 

Outside the cargo hold, the two pirates got to their feet and gave chase. Zuko ignored them, plunging into the darkness. Zaia’s wailing lead him through a maze of boxes and crates, past racks of stolen weaponry and what looked like blasting jelly. He’d have to be careful with his flames if he didn’t want to be blown-sky high.

At last, a gleam of white-green caught his eyes. Cat’s eyes. 

He turned a final corner to find a heavy iron cage tucked into the corner. Fury burned in his chest. Zaia stood crouched within, the cage far too small for a cat her size. It was just tall enough for her to stand and just long enough for her to turn a circle, but there was no space for her to unfurl her wings, and she had to curl her tail around her paws. 

She chirruped when she caught sight of him, ears standing at attention. Her amber eyes glowed in the light of his fire. 

Zuko dropped to his knees and seized the bars of the cage. A fist-sized padlock held the door closed. Zuko snarled, wedging the point of his stolen sword between the lock and the door and wrenching. The cheap blade shattered. 

Zaia made a mournful noise and laid her head on her paws. 

The two pirates pursuing Zuko turned the corner. The first, armed with a whip, taller and broader than his slight, dark companion, held a torch in one hand. 

Zaia yowled. Zuko winced at the loud noise and threw the broken sword aside, holding out a hand and taking a deep breath. The fire breathed with him, swelling, then fading, and then, all at once, flaring into a painfully bright blaze. 

The pirate holding it cried out in alarm and dropped the torch, shielding his eyes. His companion yelped as his tunic caught fire, frantically patting out the small tongues of flame. The torch died, plunging the hold into pitch darkness. By the time they’d blinked the spots from their eyes, Zuko was gone. 

He vanished into the shadows, which curled welcomingly around him, enveloping him in their velvet embrace. The air felt very cold, like the night was holding its breath, waiting, eager to see what would happen next. 

Zuko slipped around the back of a stack of boxes and clambered nimbly up a stack of crates. The pirates held very still, straining their ears. Waves battered at the wooden hull, and Zaia howled and snarled in her cage. Their own breathing was loud and ragged. Zuko couldn’t see them in the pitch dark, but he could hear them, the loud rasp of the larger man and the thinner, faster gasping of his lean companion. The faint orange glow of smoldering cloth marked the smaller man’s shoulder. Smoke thickened the air. 

Zuko lunged, slamming hard into the large man and sending them both tumbling into a stack of crates. Zuko, prepared, rolled away and came up in a crouch a foot away. His victim, caught off guard, was buried in a pile of falling cargo. Zuko could hear him shouting and swearing under the pile. 

His companion let out an alarmed cry, backing away. He tripped over something on the ground that Zuko couldn’t see, falling with a thump and a metallic clatter, then continued scrambling backwards noisily. Zuko picked his way past, silent feet questing through the darkness to find clear footing. He followed Zaia’s piteous cries back to her cage without incident and heaved the whole thing up.

His slight frame strained under the weight of cat and iron, but Zuko had been training all his life. He grunted and gritted his teeth, sweat beading his forehead, and began stumbling away. Zaia fell silent, holding still and rigid in an attempt to ease his load. 

Zuko lurched through the hold and back up to the deck, panting, arms trembling under the awkward weight of the cage. 

He ran into a trio of his crew members in one of the upper halls. He could see their faces behind their helmets, but he saw their shoulders go stiff with shock under their pauldrons. 

Zuko stuck out his chin. “We’re getting out of here,” he managed, voice straining from between his teeth. 

One of the crew swayed forwards, looking tempted to help him with his burden. Zaia trilled at them, ruffling her feathers. 

“Go,” Zuko ordered. 

The crew members looked at each other. One spoke up, hesitant. “Should we search the ship, sir?”

Zuko shook his head. His phoenix tail stuck to his sweaty neck. “There’s no point. Come on.” 

Zuko heaved the iron cage forwards and nearly fell over, slick fingers slipping on the hard edge, which bit into his skin. He cursed under his breath. 

The crew member that had seemed tempted to help earlier darted forward, grabbing the other side. 

Pursing his lips, Zuko inclined his head. Zuko saw their shadowed eyes crinkle under their helmet. 

It was much easier to carry the cage back up onto the deck and to the skiff with help. Zuko brought Zaia back to a relieved Uncle on the bridge of the small ship. Iroh’s face smoothed as soon as he caught sight of Zaia, smile appearing for the first time since Zuko had woken, but there was still tension around his eyes, anger flaring as he saw the too-small cage. 

Zuko snatched a pole arm from a nearby crewmate and wedged it into the padlock. The higher quality Fire Nation steel made quick work of the shoddy metal. Zaia burst out of the cage and launched herself into Zuko’s arms, sending the boy stumbling back. He closed his arms around her warm torso and buried his face into her fur, feeling her deep purr sink into his chest. The last, lingering worry melted out of him, leaving nothing but relief and a faint, cold pang of resentment. 

After a moment, he lifted his head. Uncle beamed at him, patting Zaia’s soft head, while the crew immediately began to look anywhere but their prince.

Zuko flushed. Embarrassed, he cleared his throat and snapped “Get us out of here. Before the pirates come back.” 

“Yes, sir!” 

* * *

Elsewhere, a group of scarred, scowling men found Katara alone in the forest. Surprised and outnumbered, the novice Water Bender was no match for the pirate crew. She spent the night tied to a tree, furious, frightened, and cold, until Aang and Sokka managed to track her down in the morning. The pirates escaped with the Water Bending scroll, and wouldn’t have any idea how close they came to capturing the Avatar for several days. 

,

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [{FAN ART}: What do you call a cat that isn't?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27288121) by [SunflowerSkys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunflowerSkys/pseuds/SunflowerSkys)




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